If Eyes Deceived
by KillerCove
Summary: The gang is just ready to break out of Fox River. And then a new officer shows up, and SHE suddenly has everyone on their toes. But Michael sees through her and realizes that she has secrets too.
1. Chapter 1

So this completely negates the rest of the season from the stay of execution on—but hey! It's how I want the story to go. I don't own anyone—the brilliant people who wrote and created _Prison Break_ do. Although, I wish I owned a few of them. The only character as of this moment that I own is…Well, you'll figure it out VERY quickly. Enjoy.

**Chapter One**

"Well. Everything seems to be in order here, Officer…"

"Collins. Sir."

He looked over the brim of his glasses and the paperwork. She sat up a little taller, avoiding a look into his eyes. She hadn't smiled, although she had wanted to from the moment she stepped inside the office. The black uniform was itchy, and the pins were poking at her. Her hat was tucked underneath her arm.

"Yes. Collins. It's just…" The Warden took off his glasses, and peered at her. "It's unusual for a woman officer to be sent to an all-male prison. Everyone here is a man—except for the doctor and her nurse. I don't understand why you requested to be moved here."

She allowed him a moment, before starting her story. "I grew up here, sir. And my boyfriend and I decided to move back. He is studying for the bar exam, and until he has his license, someone has to work and pay the bills. I am perfectly qualified, and when my superior officer told me of the opening here, and of your good work, I felt compelled to put in a transfer."

He sighed and then returned to studying her paperwork. She took a couple of deep breaths, before wiggling a little in her seat. Warden Pope glanced up at her quickly. "We will keep you on a probationary period. I will instruct the men that for the next 3 months, you are NOT to be left alone with any of the inmates. You are to be accompanied throughout this prison. Are we understood?"

She held her head up higher. "Warden. With all due respect, I am perfectly capable of handling myself and the prisoners."

The Warden slammed the file shut and pushed it across the table in front of her. "When you show me that—then we can talk. Until then, my orders are as they are. Welcome to Fox River, Officer Collins." She stood up, and reached across the table to shake his hand, then took her file. "I will have Officer Bellick take you to your first post. Death Row. That should be easiest." The Warden escorted her out of the room.

There was an officer already waiting for her. His brown eyes were drinking in her shape, her figure. Almost made her sick to her stomach. His hands curled around one another, twisting and turning. She would feel better with even an inmate in a locked cell!

"Officer Collins. This is Captain Brad Bellick. Captain, this is Officer Alex Collins."

He pulled his hands apart quickly and sucked onto hers. She almost gasped with how sweaty they were, but smiled faintly. "Pleasure, sir."

"Captain Bellick is the head of the guards here at Fox River." Pope turned to Bellick. "Take her to Death Row. Put her with John."

"Sir? Death Row? It is her first day. Don't you think that's a little—too much?"

"She has had much work on Death Row. Burrows will not cause her any trouble. He may have murdered someone, but he would not hurt a girl."

Bellick continued to have his mouth gaping. Alex pulled on her hat, and started for the door. "Which way to Death Row, sir?"

Pope motioned for Bellick to get going, and he complied. Alex grimaced slightly and rolled her eyes, as she noticed that look again—the slimy one he had given her earlier. They walked along the corridors, turning here and there.

"So. Where are you from, Miss… Excuse me, Officer Collins."

"I grew up here, in Illinois, sir. I have been in New York City for the last five years, after graduating from the university."

"New York City?" He was fighting to stifle a laugh. "You worked there?"

She stopped and faced him. "Sir? I have been trained to do a job. And I would just like to do it. So if you would please take me to Death Row, you can continue to do YOUR work. That is—IF you have any work to be done."

Without waiting for a reply, she continued walking down the hall. When she came to an intersection, she waited for him to guide her.

Her comments seemed to have struck a chord, because not another word came from his lips, and Alex was grateful for the silence. As they turned yet another corner, she could feel everything get colder. Death Row. She glanced around, taking in the stone walls, and the empty cement floors. There were two guards at the end of the hall, sitting at a table, but as soon as they had heard the clicking of boots, they stood up.

"Captain."

They both nodded to him, and then glanced quickly over her.

"Officer Davis. Officer James. This is Officer Collins. She will be staying with you, Officer Davis. Here. Until further notice. Officer James, you will accompany me back to A-wing."

The two men looked at one another. They were both tall, and even with their hats, Alex noticed that they were both starting to bald. "Sir?" The one with the 'John Davis' nametag spoke. "I'm not babysitting."

"She's the new officer. Warden's orders." Bellick got up right next to Davis' face, and sneered at Alex. "Show her the way things are, John." With that, Bellick and Officer James disappeared.

"Great. Not only do I get to baby-sit an assassin, but I get to watch the new recruit." He took off his hat, and wiped his face, his eyes meeting hers. "Take a seat, kid. We'll be going to get lunch soon." He sat down, and gathered up the deck of cards and started shuffling. Alex looked over to the steel door, with a little window. Davis followed her gaze. "We don't talk to him. Well, he doesn't talk much. We try not to fraternize with the inmates. Makes it easier to punish them."

"But we can talk to them, can't we?" She started for the door, but Officer Davis bolted in front of her.

"What are you doing? Do you realize who is in there?"

"Someone who is eventually going to die. I'm sure he's tired of being all alone. I was just going to introduce myself to him." She squinted her eyes in a glare. He almost started laughing.

"Your funeral. Don't say I didn't warn you. Keep the door opened, so that I can make sure he doesn't do anything. He may be in chains, but seeing a woman…a beautiful woman at that," he was sizing her up. "He may not be able to contain himself."

"I'll take my chances." He shrugged and took out the keys and opened the door. She slipped inside.

He was sitting on the bed, cross-legged. His shaved head was leaning back against the stone wall. Hardly any sunlight was creeping through the bars. She stepped closer, and took her hat off.

"Mr. Burrows? I'm Officer Collins. I'm the new…"

"Guard. I heard. I can hear everything."

"Oh." She added lamely. She took another step forward. "I just wanted to introduce myself to you, Mr. Burrows."

He turned his head, slightly. "After all this time, Pope finally decides to let a woman in here. That's a surprise."

"I can handle myself."

Lincoln started laughing. She liked that laugh. It reminded her of another laugh. Of another man. She started laughing as well. Lincoln moved in closer to her. "You don't know where you are. You have entered hell. Get out before it's too damn late."

"Maybe you should take your own advice," she whispered while smirking at him. Alex turned on her heels and walk out of the room. She took one more look at him, at that gaping jaw, before shutting the door, and letting Davis lock it.

"We'll be relieved soon so that we can get lunch." Alex nodded, going over to one of the chairs. She dusted it off with her hand, then sat down, and took the deck of cards and did a quick shuffle that would make any gambler in Vegas jealous of her skills.

"A little game, until then, Officer Davis?"


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I like Spanish. So, I included a song by Marta Sanchez y Andrea Bocelli called _Vivo por ella_. I felt like it was good for Sucre. I also added the translation, for those who need help with it. If you have a second, let me know what you think. And just keep an open mind. I promise…it'll get better."

**Chapter Two**

Michael was packing the cell. Sucre was laying across his bunk, humming some ridiculous song in Spanish.

Vivo por ella y nadie más (_I live for her and no one else_)  
puede vivir dentro de mi (_she could live inside of me_)  
Ella me da la vida, la vida… (_She gives me life, the life…_)  
sí está junto a mí (_if she is together with me_)

Michael was almost annoyed. With every passing day, Sucre had become more unbearable. There was more mourning, more depressing Spanish love songs, than there had ever been before. But everyone was a little more apprehensive as the day came closer.

The loudspeaker came on, and announced lunch. There was a beep, and all of the prison doors slid open. Sucre jumped down. Michael stuffed his hands in his pockets, and strolled out of his cell, and into the line of other inmates. He looked down and noticed T-Bag, C-Note, and Abruzzi, all in their formations. This afternoon they wouldn't have to rot in the cells—they could go do some PI work. Just a few more days.

As they reached the cafeteria, the whispering began. Michael still got his tray and filled it with the sloppy food, and found the regular table. It was T-Bag that shared the news that was going around the cafeteria.

"There's a new officer on the block."

"What's so especial about that? A new man you can torture?" Sucre asked as he guzzled a bit of his soda.

"Better. SHE's very pretty, from what they're saying."

C-Note almost chocked on his water. "SHE? A woman?"

"Una chica? No, no."

Michael shook his head. "Look. That's not important. We have to remain focused. This is a good distraction for us to make our move. While she's still new. Everyone will be watching her—we can make our break even more easily." He stabbed at his vegetables, and was absorbed with eating and observing everyone else. But then, he noticed how all conversation stopped, and all clanging of utensils ceased as well.

Every gaze fell on _her_. Her blond hair was pulled into a braid, but tucked under a hat. Each step was deliberate, not questioned. She didn't even make a movement like she knew that she was being stared at by hundreds of men. It wasn't until one inmate called Oreo, stood up next to her, and smiled. Michael strained to hear what he said.

"Can I help you with that?" He put his hands out for her tray.

"May?" The inmate's smile disappeared as he looked at his friend. She tapped her foot impatiently. "May I help you with that? Speak your language properly." She pushed past him. He almost started after her, but there were five officers behind her in line. Oreo sat down again. T-Bag snickered.

"She speaks proper English. Most of these men will not be able to get near her. Fortunately for me—I have been well versed in language."

"Explains why you can't keep your damn mouth shut," C-Note replied, as he took a big bite of his sandwich. T-Bag followed suit. The officers wound around the cafeteria, taking seats near the window. Michael watched her out of the corner of his eyes. She took a napkin and unfolded it, placing it over her lap, and then grabbed a fork and started cutting her food. As she took her first bite, her eyes trailed around the room.

"Hombre. She's checking you out."

Michael looked up from his tray, to see Sucre motioning to the officers' table. Indeed, her eyes were locked on him. He smiled, and gave a tiny wave. Her mouth was stuffed with food, but her whole face softened at the sight of him. She gulped down her meal, and continued to stare at him. Her eyes were tracing his face.

He looked away, unable to hold that gaze. There was something about those eyes.

"Hombre. First, the doctor… Now this chica. What were you like before you got here?"

"Definitely not a lady's man." He grinned at his own joke.

The bell buzzed for them to return to their cells. As he took his tray to the trash can, he noticed that she was standing by the window, holding her tray, watching him. He gave a two-fingered wave, and started for his cells. He almost didn't hear the tiny voice whisper, "Scofield."

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By the time he turned around, she had hidden behind on the guards. It was too soon. Too quickly. She could get into a lot of trouble. And that was the last thing she needed. Alex returned to Death Row with Officer Davis. She was quiet. So was he. He was probably still mad that she had beaten him 10 times in blackjack and four times in poker.

The two guards they had left to guard Lincoln's cell were laughing over something, but quieted only slightly as Davis and Alex appeared. Alex was half expecting them to just disappear, but they stayed.

"So, Davis. Not only get to babysit the convicts, but now the newbies."

Alex sat down in a vacant chair, near one of the windows and gazed over the lawn. So many fences. So much barb wire. It all made her feel so locked away. Which is what she was—but she still didn't like it.

"Did you hear me, girl?"

Alex turned quickly away from the window. "Officer. I'm wearing the same badge as you. Don't pretend like you can't see it. It's right there!" She pointed to her chest, where she knew they had all looked before. "Now. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Is there a problem here?" Bellick's voice came booming from the hallway. The four officers turned, and straightened. One of the guards, whom Alex didn't know, started mumbling something about being in big trouble, but quieted when Bellick arrived. "I asked a question."

Alex rolled her eyes at the other men who weren't volunteering ANY information. "No, Captain. There is no problem here."

He stepped even closer to her. She could smell his breath, but didn't dare look anywhere than straight in front of her. "Glad to hear it, Officer." He stepped back a pace, and Alex let out a little air. "Collins. You will be moved to security over the PI crew. Now, these convicts are usually known to be on the best behavior—and according to the Warden, these are the safest men to be around, but I have my doubts." As Bellick spoke, he circled Alex, leering down on her. But she stood her ground, hoping that he would finish soon. "But I'm not the boss around here. Or else I would have you behind a desk somewhere…" His voice lowered as he got closer to her ear. She brushed him aside and continued staring straight ahead. "But the Warden wants to try you out there."

"Doesn't Burrows go to PI crew?"

Bellick's eyebrows came together. "Already getting to know the prisoners, aren't we, Officer Collins?"

"I feel it necessary to know the inmates in order to better help them. Better serve them. And especially those who will be here for the rest of their lives. It wouldn't be fair to leave them all alone."

"Are we really about fairness, Collins?"

She finally turned and noticed that his face was inches from her own. "This country was founded upon the idea that justice would always prevail. I am a firm believer in justice. But I suggest we leave this conversation for another time, so that we can return to work." Alex again looked forward.

Captain Bellick gave a little laugh and then went to Lincoln's cell and opened the door. "Get out here. You've got work." He disappeared inside the cell, and there was the clang of the locks. Lincoln appeared in the doorway, shielding his eyes from the sunshine. Alex gave a little gasp. He looked so much… She whipped herself into her stance.

"Collins. Let's go."

She turned and started out to the yard with Lincoln and Bellick in front of her. Lincoln walked carefully. Each step meant something. Bellick thudded down the long hallway. Alex looked through every window they passed and noticed the group of convicts that were gathering. The same ones she had seen in the cafeteria earlier. There was already one officer out there. As they reached the door, Lincoln was offered a jacket. The cool autumn wind was whipping around. Collins grabbed for a nearby jacket, and zipped it up.

They walked out into the fresh air. Alex could only realize how much recreational periods would mean to these inmates. After only a few hours, she was loving the smell of fresh air. She wasn't paying attention to the clouds rolling by—rather, she noticed each of the characters that made up her new assignment. From the short, skinny white man, to the African-American, the older men, the latino. Again, her eyes landed on the face—that face that haunted her. She felt something get stuck in her throat, but willed herself to keep walking, never stopping from looking at that face.

And he was looking at her too.

They allowed Lincoln to enter the lockerroom to change. She and Bellick went to the other two officers. "Officers Scott and Williams… This is Officer Collins. She's new here to Fox River. The Warden wants her to be trained. Take care of her." And with that, Bellick turned on his heels and walked away. But not without a wink to Alex. She almost gagged on her saliva.

"Is he ALWAYS like that?"

The two officers stopped their conversation that had just begun. One of them coughed, while the other gave a nervous laugh. "Listen. If you can't handle it, sweetie…"

It was enough. Turning on her heels, Alex stalked off to wander amongst the prisoners and their work. One of the older men was digging a hole. He looked like he was about to double over in pain. "Are you alright, sir?"

The man stood up, his white hair shining in the afternoon sun. He was bundled up well. He smiled down at her. "I'm fine, kid."

Alex nodded, and moved onto another work—the African-American. She smiled at him. "Hello. How's it coming?"

He looked up at her, and shaded his eyes with one hand. "Why don't you dig for awhile and tell me?"

"Now, now, C-Note. She's just curious. Aren't you, angel?" Alex turned slightly at the slippery voice. The scrawny little man was standing to her left, licking his lips. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, and started to head for another part of the yard, but he touched her arm. "Curious and beautiful. How long are you gonna be around us, Angel? Because I would love to have a piece of heaven." His hands started to move down her arm.

With one quick motion, Alex had twisted his arm back in an abnormal position, and taken the opportunity to give him a good kick to his lower extremities. He withered in pain on the ground. She bent down low to him. "Don't you EVER touch me again. And don't you DARE suggest or insinuate ANYTHING about me. WE are NOT friends."

She stood up and walked back to the fence where the other two guards were. She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned against the chain links.

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Every man in that yard was watching her with interest. T-Bag stood up, and started breathing out threats—something about that bitch and the next time he was close enough, but Michael was watching her closely, just as she was studying him closely. There was something in that look that he didn't like. It was a look like she knew him, like she was completely familiar with him.

"Hombre. ¿Qué pasa?" Sucre asked, kicking some dirt onto Michael's shoes. It brought him right back to Fox River—to the plan.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Give me one more day, gentlemen. And then, we'll be out of here."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: So, I've kept many of the same elements of the story. Just added in a female police officer. She mixes things up a little. So, don't sue me that they take the same escape route. I'm not genius enough to come up with a new way for them to get out!

**Chapter Three**

Those eyes. They appeared in front of him. They weren't the brown ones that were always questioning him. No. Now they were blue ones. Ones that read his every movement, knew what he was going to do, and the why.

Michael pushed away from the sink, and sat down on his bunk. Why was she still haunting him? He had 24 hours to get everything in motion, and a GIRL was on his mind. And not Sara.

"Open 40."

A guard stood in front of their cell. The alarm beeped once, the door sliding open. "Scofield. Infirmary."

Perhaps that would make him feel better. He had already explained the situation to Sara—about leaving the door to the infirmary unlocked. This was his chance to explain things a little more clearly. But as he came to the infirmary, only the nurse was there. He stepped into the room, the glass door behind him closed.

"Where's Dr. Tancredi?"

"She stepped out."

Katie expertly gave him his dosage of insulin, and sent him on his way, without even another glance. Michael made the long walk back to his cell with a guard to accompany him. But as he turned a corner towards A-wing, his body met someone else's. He had to take a step back to balance himself, but when he looked up, he met those blue eyes, again.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, bowing her head. Michael was struck again by how familiar that look was, but the guard prodded him to continue. And he did, but not without another glance at her. She, too, was watching him.

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She waited until she could no longer hear the thud of his boots against the cool cement floor. He HAD to know, HAD to remember by now. But every time, it was like he was staring at a stranger. Alex shrugged and then continued through the maze to the Warden's office. He had called down to Death Row asking for her to come, unaccompanied. This was definitely a good sign.

The secretary was keeping herself busy with the piles of paperwork, but nodded when Alex tapped against the glass window. "Officer Collins. Warden Pope is expecting you." She motioned for Alex to enter the office.

"I'm sure he is," Alex mumbled.

Pope was on the phone when she entered with a knock, but promptly excused himself from the conversation, and hung up. He gestured for her to have a seat. She took off her cap and tucked it under her arm, shutting the door. As she sat down, Warden Pope cleared his throat.

"I almost didn't think you could do it, Officer Collins." She sat tall and proud. A smile was just aching to creep across her mouth, but she resisted. "I saw you out with the PI crew. How you interacted with them…"

"I apologize, sir, if I was a little rough with one of them."

The Warden gave a little laugh. "You have no need to apologize. They need a swift kick in the pants. I underestimated you, Officer Collins. Which is why I have decided to allow you to continue guard duty at Death Row." He pulled a paper up to his face, and then glanced in her direction. "I know you must be tired, but one of the guards is sick and cannot come in. I have an opening tonight from seven to eleven o'clock. Do you think that you can handle taking care of Burrows in Death Row, by yourself, during that time?"

"Sir," she nodded. Pope signed a few papers, and then nodded. Alex stood, and started for the door. The excitement was building up as she skipped down the hallway. Everything was so perfect.

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At dinner that night, Michael was sitting at the table, pondering over the plans. He could hardly eat. Sucre came up with his tray of food. "Chaval (_dude_). You're gonna love this. The chica. She's watching your brother. It's going to be so easy to get him out."

"Not if she has other guards with her. I haven't seen her alone, yet."

Sucre's excitement turned to irritation. "That's just the thing—she IS alone."

Michael no longer could concentrate on dinner. He knew that everything would go according to plan. Everything would be just perfect. As long as everyone did their part, and did it at the right moment. His mind started processing all of the information.

Time was ticking.

Everything depended on Lincoln.

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She was lazily shuffling the deck of cards left behind. And getting bored at playing solitaire for the fifth time. Even the MASH game that she had learned in junior high was getting dull. Maybe Lincoln would want to play. She went over to his cell, and peered through the window. He was just sitting on the ground, his back against his bed, his knees to his chest. Alex unlocked the door.

"Hey there, partner. You bored? Wanna play a quick game?"

Lincoln looked up and down at her. "You're kidding?"

She laughed. "Never. Come on. We'll play a couple of games. It'll be fun." She motioned for him to come out. Lincoln again looked at her.

Alex noticed the pale face, the sweat that was dripping down his face. "You don't look so good." His breathing became labored. "Oh…shoot…okay. Let's…uh…get you to the infirmary." She dropped the deck of cards that spread across the floor, and ran to him. She helped him the stand up—his weight almost knocking her over. Alex let Lincoln lean on her as they walked down the hallway towards the infirmary. She was so worried about him, that she didn't notice that she had left the radio on the table.

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Michael tapped his watch. One by one, each of the inmates had appeared at his cell and crept through the wall. T-Bag made his way, gloating the whole way. Michael was annoyed by having to wait, and almost shoved T-Bag through the wall. Once they were all inside and had stripped into their white suits, Michael led them through the maze of pipes. Each step brought them closer to their destination.

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It was a lot farther to the infirmary than she had expected. That and having a large man to drag along the corridors made it almost impossible for her to get there quickly. Lincoln hadn't lost consciousness, and was able to help her when she wasn't sure which turn to take. Alex spied the glass doors and almost started running. She swiped her security card, and the locks immediately opened. She shifted Lincoln's weight so that she could open a door and then pushed him through.

The infirmary was pitch black. Even with the surveillance lights outside, on the lawn, she could hardly see anything. But she did notice a back room. And luckily, that room was unlocked. Pulling Lincoln into the room, she threw his weight onto the hospital bed.

"Okay. Just…um…relax there..." She took a deep breath, and wiped the sweat off of her brow. "…Let me…catch…my breath." He was still breathing heavily. "Are...you…okay? Not…going…to…die?"

His silhouette shook a no. She nodded and continued breathing. It was then that she heard a bang from out in the hallway. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound. Alex grazed the gun on her hip, and then looked back at Lincoln.

Out in the hallway, everything seemed normal. Her hand was still barely touching the gun; her left hand was protecting her face. She crept out and slid along a wall back towards the way she and Lincoln had entered. In the corner of her eye, a shadow crept along a different wall and into the room. The shadow reached Lincoln and they shared a quick embrace. Smiling to herself, she backed out of the entrance, a hand wrapping around her mouth as she did.

"Well, well. I do believe you must be tired, because you just fell from heaven." Alex's eyes couldn't capture his face, but the dripping slime of his voice clearly revealed who it was. She didn't make a sound, but pulled her gun out of the holster and used her elbow to bang his stomach, and then the gun to slam his head. He released her. She took a few steps back.

"Now, now. You don't want to be doing anything with that, Angel."

"Back off!" She gritted her teeth at him, while he licked his lips.

"You're just so sweet. Wonder if you taste sweet."

Alex cocked the pistol as T-Bag advanced on her. "You'll NEVER find out." T-Bag held his hands up. "I can't let you go."

"Angel," T-Bag laughed, stepping closer to her. "You don't have a choice." He was so quick to pull her close, that she didn't even realize until he was licking her up the side of her face. She grimaced and tried to grab something to twist and turn, but he grabbed her wrists first and turned them until she almost squealed in pain. She bit her bottom lip, and then started to use her legs, but T-Bag just kicked them out from under her, so that they both went to the floor.

He lost his grip on her, and she immediately began scampering across the floor, right into the boots of Abruzzi. He grabbed her by her hair and lifted her up. "Do you know how long I've waited to get out of this hell hole. And no little beautiful blond who THINKS she's a police officer is going to stop me." She was trying so hard to get him to let go of her, but he flicked out a knife.

T-Bag had stood up, and was breathing heavily, as he wiped away the sweat on his brow. "Give her to me. I'll take care of my Angel."

Alex was a good foot off of the ground, and she could feel the hair pulling at her scalp. "I won't make a sound. Please. Just put me down."

A smile crept across Abruzzi's face. "It's been a long time since a woman has begged something of me. I've missed it."

"Please." Her voice was losing its power, as she struggled to remain in control. The pain was getting to her. She was losing it.

"Hey."

Everyone turned to the doorway. Lincoln came out and walked sternly towards them. Abruzzi immediately let go of Alex. She fell to the floor, and huddled there. Lincoln squatted down next to her. She didn't cower at him, but was running her fingers through her hair, massaging her head. Michael opened the door and began looking around. "Okay. Let's do it."

"But the girl, man. What are we going to do with her?" T-Bag was pointing to Alex. Lincoln looked up at Michael. She looked at each of them, before resting her eyes on Michael.

"I won't say anything," she said quietly.

"I say we kill her. She knows too much," T-Bag jeered.

Michael walked over to her, and unzipped his white suit. He pulled out a new pair of handcuffs, and handed them to Lincoln with a nod. She held out her wrists. Her blue eyes stared at Lincoln's hands as he wrapped the metal around her tiny wrists. She pulled her hands back into her lap, her knees bent towards her. She looked up at him. His kind eyes held so much regret. He grabbed her arms, and lifted her up to her feet.

Michael turned towards the infirmary hallway. "Let's go."

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She was a good sport. Not a word came from her. She followed them silently. Michael made sure that Lincoln stayed next to her. In a few steps, they were to the door. Michael jingled it softly, the doorknob turning. Sara HAD come through. Michael allowed everyone through the door before shutting himself in the room.

They started their way across the cable, up and over the wall. Michael took a look around the make sure that nothing was out of order. Then, he noticed a note folded up on her desk. One word across the front—_Michael_.

Grabbing the note, something else fell out—the origami rose he had left Sara. He quickly skimmed the note, then stuffed it and the rose in his pocket. Later. He would deal with this later. Abruzzi, Westmoreland, Sucre and C-Note were already to the other side. Lincoln was making his way across the cable. T-Bag was getting ready to go across, but Michael pushed the officer forward. "She goes first." He took a key out from his pocket. "Don't try anything."

The officer nodded; her face expressionless. He undid her cuffs, and then pushed her towards the window. She gripped the cable, and started to slither across. She was quick, and before he knew it, T-Bag was out on the cable. Only him and Tweener left.

Michael glanced across to the wall. He checked his watch again. Only a few more minutes. Tweener was pacing around the room. "Hey. Don't. We're getting out." Once T-Bag was safely across, Michael went and grabbed on and scampered across the cable. He was within inches of Lincoln's hand when he started to hear a snapping sound. Looking down at the infirmary window, he saw Tweener was also starting his ascent to the wall.

"Get back! It won't hold us both."

"You can't leave me," the young boy muttered. Michael rolled his eyes and slowly made his way, even though he could hear the snapping. He grabbed onto Lincoln's hand, just as the cable broke from off of the infirmary building. Tweener started yelling as he swung straight and slammed into the wall. Michael's breath caught in his throat—everyone on the wall stared in silence at the body that was now laying on the ground below them. Lincoln pulled Michael up onto the wall.

"Chale (_bummer_)," Sucre said. All eyes went to him, and then realized that they needed to get moving. They hopped down from the wall, and started making their way down the street.

Once across the street and into some brush, Michael took roll. They had lost Tweener, but had added the officer. She still hadn't said anything, but T-Bag had latched onto her, making sure that she didn't disappear. There were still too many. They would easily be seen. They all stripped down to the clothes that were under the white suits, Michael squatted between all of them.

"This is when we go our separate ways. Abruzzi and I will go one way. Linc, you and Sucre…" He glanced at the guard, then continued, "…and the officer will take another route. The rest of you—meet us at the airport. The plane will leave in 30 minutes."

Michael stood up, and hugged Linc, then took off into the darkness with Abruzzi. Lincoln turned to Sucre and Alex. "We better get moving."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Alex was having a hard time keeping up. These inmates sure know how to work out. It felt like hours that they had been running. She was so ready for a break. But they kept running. She had taken off her long-sleeved shirt, leaving her in a white tank top. There was no use being hot, and eventually she would either be inside or… Alex gulped down the other thought. They wouldn't kill her.

Or would they?

Lincoln knew where he was going, as he took them deeper and deeper into the city. She missed having her gun at her side, and the tiny pistol in her sock was starting to slow her down. Running a little lower to the ground, she grabbed it out of her sock, and jammed the tiny pistol into her pants' back pocket. There was no option—she HAD to keep up.

They took a few more turns, and then the open air field came into view. Through the chain linked fence, she could see a little private jet, idling on the runway.

Linc and Sucre both gave a yelp of victory and bolted for the fence. They started climbing, but it was Linc that noticed that Alex was struggling to find footing. He was straddling the top of the fence, when he put his hand down, which she gratefully accepted. He lifted her up until she found footing on the bar that ran across the top. She leapt off, letting Sucre break her fall.

"¿Qué haces, chica?" (_What are you doing, girl?_)

"Perdona, eh?" (_Forgive me_) Alex was dusting herself off, not paying attention to anything.

"You speak Spanish?"

Opening her mouth to answer, Lincoln jumped down and started making his way towards the plane, bending low to the ground. Sucre followed closely. Alex checked out the airfield. It almost seemed too peaceful. She bent low and was just about to begin her sprint when she felt a hand creep around her neck, for the second time that night.

"Angel. You actually made it here. Well, you won't make it in there." T-Bag growled in her ear, pointing to the plane.

"Let me go, damn it!"

"There's just not enough room for all of us, Angel." His free hand started exploring her stomach. She started pounding against his hand that was wrapped around her neck, trying to get a good grip, while lifting him up and over her back. As she was bent over, his gripped loosened, his weight crashing down on her. She let him slither off. His eyes were closed, and he was still breathing, but clearly had taken a good knock in the head. Alex looked around and noticed the old man.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

Westmoreland doubled over in pain. Alex glanced at C-Note who had just finished scaling the wall. He nodded his approval and took Westmoreland to the plane, while Alex pulled T-Bag over her shoulder. "I can't believe I'm helping you. But everyone needs a superhero, I guess…" she mumbled as she crept towards the plane.

Michael was waiting for her at the stairway. He took T-Bag from her, and slung the limp body over his shoulder. She was breathing hard, but he still allowed her to go first up the steps. She scrambled, keeping beneath the railings.

Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen… Almost to the top. In the distance she heard a faint siren blare. As she reached the hatch door, she chanced a glance back at Michael. He was carefully studying her face with those green eyes. Nodding her head, she went in and wound her way to the cabin.

They were all breathing heavily. Their shirts were damp with sweat. Exhaustion was overtaking them as the door to the plane shut. Michael tossed T-Bag into one of the seats and buckled him in, before taking his own seat. Alex went to the vacant aisle in front of Michael—behind T-Bag, and curled up, her back facing the aisle. She leaned her head against the seat—looking out into the blackness of the night, watching as the city lights blurred with the speed of the airplane and then became smaller and smaller.

The inmates were already shouting in victory. Alex sighed in relief. She had made it this far, but every moment she was still in danger. As long as she was an officer—she was in danger.

-------------------------

Michael smiled as the group began to sing. They were already celebrating. A little soon, in his opinion. They hadn't reached their destination. And he knew that everyone was aching to start on their way. But it was safest if they weren't in the States, just yet. They needed to change their look, lay low for awhile. The list started building itself in his mind. A pay phone was needed as soon as they got off the plane. He needed to call Veronica. And get some information.

The men had settled into their seats, but Lincoln caught Michael's eye. Linc gestured for Michael to come over to him—closer to the back of the plane, and on the opposite side. Slipping out of his seat, he made his way across the cabin. The noise had lowered as the men started to grow weary of the last few hours of adrenaline.

"Michael. What about the girl?" Linc nodded towards her. Michael could see her easily from his aisle seat. She was curled up, her fingers gently caressing the window, drawing something. He looked back at Lincoln.

"She's going with us. To Mexico."

"Michael? We can't have extra baggage, or else I would have LJ and Veronica with us. We can let her off in California. She'll be fine. She looks like she can take care of herself."

Taking the opportunity to give her another glance, a smirk crept over Michael's lips. "Linc. We'll take care of her." Michael pulled the pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and stood. He went over to her seat and cleared his throat.

Turning slightly, when she noticed who it was, her feet slapped the floor. She stood up, nearly knocking her head against the baggage hold above her head. Michael showed her the cuffs, and again, she showed him her wrists. He locked her in, his eyes searching her rather than paying attention to the cuffs. She held his gaze for a long time, before the plane started bumping in the turbulence. She used the seat backs to hold her balance, while he remained steady against the bumping of the plane.

With cuffs on her, he returned to his seat, and reclined. In a few hours, they would be in California to refuel. Those who had places to go would be allowed to leave. And even though he had a thousand lists still forming in his mind, he found solace in sleep.

--------------------------

"_Linc. We'll take care of her."_

This was it. Nothing she had done had mattered.

Wait. Was she accepting her doom? Her demise? Honestly, she had never done so in all of her training missions. This was nothing different.

Checking around her, she noticed that T-Bag was snoring loudly in front of her. She crept out of her seat, and moved around so that she could have a good view. On his lips was a toothpick. Her eyes glimmered in satisfaction. Her wrists moved as one, her fingers outstretched. Touching lightly, she left her finger hold the weight of the toothpick. T-Bag sighed, opening his mouth. Alex grimaced as she noticed his tongue moving inside of his mouth. She waited another second then lifted the toothpick completely off of his lip. She was inches from his face, watching the make sure there was no reaction. His tongue replaced the toothpick on his lips. Sticking her tongue out and pulling a face, she crept back to her seat.

She picked the handcuff apart on her right wrist then unlocked the other. They were all breathing so heavily. It was probably the first time in weeks that they had slept soundly. Waiting for a moment to be sure that no one had heard, Alex started for the back of the plane, and began snooping around the emergency equipment, finally locating the parachutes. She pulled one out, and smiled to herself, then looked at the doorway.

Michael was there. Watching her.

She took a deep breath. "I…"

"Greg wouldn't approve of this, you know?"

Alex's eyes grew very large. She waited for him to explain further, but his face only softened. She broke into a smile. "Oh—but Greg showed me how to do it." She set the backpack down on the ground and walked closer to Michael. He leaned against door hatch. "Took you long enough."

Michael rolled his eyes, sticking his hands into his pocket. "Aly. You were sixteen when I last saw you." He took a moment to size her up and then let her know his findings. "You grew up." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Maybe not."

She sighed and leaned against the wall facing him. A glance back at the others informed her that they were all still asleep. Her eyes closed just for a moment, but Michael's kind voice brought her back. "Aly. What are you doing here?"

A smile pursed her lips. "Helping." She threw her head back, letting it rest on the metal behind her. "I couldn't let you have all the fun."

"But how…?"

"I think you've had enough excitement for one night, Scofield." She patted him on his shoulder and started back to one of the seats, but Michael grabbed her arm and brought her back to standing in front of him. Her eyelashes fluttered. "You're not ready for my story, Michael. Let's get some sleep. We'll be safe soon."

Placing her hand over his, she nodded and returned to her seat. From her little window she could see the sun just starting to peak over the clouds, the rays beaming down, tearing away at the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: So, since they're in Mexico, I would start having the people they speak to in Spanish. But I'm not sure how many of those who read this, know Spanish as well. Therefore, from now on, when they are in conversation and it is in Spanish (unless it's a few phrases or something), it will be italicized. Just so you know why the words may be in English, but not all of the characters understand what is going on.

**Chapter Five**

California was behind them, now. They had stopped to refuel, and C-Note, Westmoreland, and Sucre had planned to make calls from a pay phone in the hanger. But a newspaper had blown into the airfield, and on the front page were large colored photos of each of the inmates. Although they had wanted nothing more than to be back with their families—they ran back into the plan, hiding from the world. The pilot finished filling the plane with more fuel, and they were on their way again—a little hop over the border. To Mexico.

Mexico. He hadn't been back since Spring Break of his last year at Loyola. He hadn't been kidding when he told Sara that Mexico was a great place…

Sara.

Her note was still in his pocket. He pulled out the crumpled paper. Smoothing out the mangled piece, he began to read the words again.

_Michael—_

_We're even. You saved me, and now I'm saving you. _

_I can't wait._

_Good luck, friend._

That was it. The rose said it all. He was grateful to her. She wasn't calculated into the equation. He had never thought that he could feel that way. It's what made everything so hard. To see the look of betrayal that she would give him…

The plane landed with some jumbling, waking up the rest of the group. The men groaned and rubbed their eyes. Michael moved up a row, to the seat next to Aly's. She was still curled up in her seat, her fingers pressed against the window.

"Hey. Captain?"

She turned slowly, a smile spreading across her lips. "Yes, Chief?"

Something caught in his throat. He quickly cleared it and grinned. "Been to Mexico lately?"

"Once or twice. Someone used to share stories about Baja. Made me want to go there. So, I took off for spring break." She leaned across the seat, eyes sparkling. "Cabo San Lucas is better."

Michael's eyes grew large. "Little Aly went to Spring Break? What else happened to little Aly since I graduated?"

Aly sat up straighter, and returned her gaze to the window. "She got older," she added solemnly. A sigh escaped her lips. Turning back to Michael, she smiled. "Don't worry about me, Chief."

"You're getting yourself in deep, Aly."

"I'll be fine. I can take care of myself…"

"Well, well. Fraternizing with the prisoner, pretty boy?"

Michael and Aly looked up to the row in front of them. T-Bag was leaning over the seat back, smirking at them. He took one of his hands and rubbed his head. "I have a debt to pay back, Angel…" His hand shot out towards her, but Aly dodged, and Michael grabbed his wrist, turning it slightly. T-Bag moaned in pain.

"Don't touch her," Michael gritted through his teeth as T-Bag slithered down the seats, holding his wrist.

The commotion had caused everyone else to arouse. Lincoln was by Michael's side, peering over the seat at T-Bag, and then looking at Aly. She was standing; her head bent low against the baggage hold, breathing rapidly.

"What's going on, Michael?"

"I told you—we should have killed her back in the infirmary. But pretty boy here has gone sweet on the girl…" T-Bag was standing up now, cradling his wrist in his other hand. "Though, I can't say I blame him."

Michael glared at him. "She's an old friend." He looked back at Linc. "From college. I was best friends with her brother. I use to go over to her house during holidays." He looked around to the rest of the crew. "She can be trusted. I promise."

Abruzzi was the one who stepped forward. He gave her a last look, and then turned to Michael, inches away from his face. "She better not compromise this situation, or else we're losing you both… and I don't mean accidentally."

Michael continued to hold Abruzzi's gaze. "I trust her." He could feel Aly move up right behind him, and touch his arm. Michael relaxed a little. "We have other things to worry about. Like, once we get off this plane, where we are going to stay, and how we're going to get back. Without getting caught."

"Chico—don't you have all the answers?" Sucre had his arms crossed over one of the seat backs, a questioning look across his face.

Opening his mouth, he closed it again. He looked around, his mind processing and assessing their situation. But it was Aly who spoke up first. "I think I have an idea…"

------------------------------

When she stepped out of the bathroom of the bar, she felt almost ridiculous. Her black uniform pants had been traded for a pair of khaki Capri shorts. Her tank top was now replaced with a small white t-shirt that proclaimed _¡Viva Mexico! _bought from the guy around the corner for a couple of pesetas. Her prison boots were now replaced with a pair of sandals, the sunglasses and ponytail completed her ensemble. The tags were ripped from the clothes, dropped back into the toilet, and flushed.

As she stepped out into the sunlight, she knew they were all watching her. She didn't feel as comfortable looking like a sweet, innocent young woman—maybe it was that predatory look that she had gotten from everyone before, but it would only be for a little while. And then she could buy some other clothes that were more her style. Approaching the group of guys, she pulled the sunglasses over her eyes. No need for them to see the nervousness she felt.

"Where's Michael?"

"Getting ready." Lincoln was the one to bring her up to speed. The others were enjoying some beer, lounging across the dumpy bar tables that looked as though they had come from a school cafeteria. "You were quick."

"I'm required to be quick. It's part of my job." She took the lone water bottle that was sitting on the table, and took a swig. Lincoln opened her mouth to ask her something, but Michael appeared next to him. He was wearing khaki shorts, and a light blue t-shirt that clung to him, letting everyone see the outlines of his abs. Aly almost choked on her water, trying with all her might to drink it down. "You look good, Michael," she replied once she found her voice again.

"Thanks, Aly." He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking at her. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, closing the water bottle up. He put out one of his hands, which she took. Michael took one last look at the group. "We'll drop call that pay phone," he used his free hand to gesture to the pay phone that was just paces away from them. "The number of rings tells you the room number. Aly will be waiting at the back porch for you."

His fingers closed around hers, and started to pull her along, guiding her to their destination. As they pulled up close, Michael took out a pair of sunglasses from his back pocket and put them over his eyes. Abby lifted hers, leaving them on top of her head. She scanned the front lawn. A gardener was putting his tools away; the palm trees were swaying back and forth. Smiling to herself, she hardly noticed when Michael grabbed her hand again.

"So, if they ask about a ring, explain that we just eloped last night in San Diego, and traveled all night to take our honeymoon. Your parents don't approve of the match, and I lost mine when I was young." Aly nodded slowly, replacing the sunglasses.

"I know, Michael. Don't worry."

Aly lead them towards the lobby, her fingers intertwining with Michael's. A huge smile crossed her face, as she saw the receptionists perk up with the thought of new customers. Turning abruptly, Michael slammed into her body. She immediately put her hands around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. There was a moment of hesitation, when neither was quite sure of what was happening. One look was all it took for them to dive in again.

After a few moments of indulging themselves, Aly pulled away, using the back of her hand to stroke the cheek that was no longer clean shaven. Her grin was plastered across her face, as she again took the lead into the lobby.

"Hello. Welcome to Paradise," one of the receptionists spoke in her broken English. Aly took Michael's hand and wrapped it around her waist, then put her head and a hand on his chest.

"Hola," she replied with a bad accent. "We need a place to stay."

"Yes."

"A big bed."

"Yes."

"And a hammock," Michael chimed in. Aly glanced up at him, and giggled.

"Yes."

"We just got married," Aly rushed in. "Last night. Oh my gosh. It was so romantic. At that little place off B Street in San Diego." She leaned over the counter, sure that they could hardly understand her quick paced English. "He doesn't have enough money for a real ring, yet. We're going to have to shop around this afternoon to find something for now. I can't have anyone trying to take me away from my handsome knight." Aly rubbed her hand over his scalp, smiling ardently.

"Yes."

"So, if you could give us a special or something…you know…like that?"

"¿Qué?"

Michael coughed, as the receptionist looked puzzled. "A special," Aly replied a little slower. "Something nice and big because we got married?" Her blue eyes had grown a little bigger, as she innocently fluttered her eyelashes. She was using one of her fingers to draw the outlines of Michael's chest, and bit her bottom lip. The receptionist smiled, nodding.

"Yes, señorita. A perfect room for you."

"Thank you. I mean…Gracias," she added with that horrible accent.

"Name?"

"Robins. R-O-B-I-N-S." She sighed, looking up at Michael. "Mrs. Robins. I like that sound, Will."

"I do too, dear," he replied, pulling her closer to him. The top of her head fit right under his chin. The receptionists giggled, and started speaking to one another. Aly turned around, and was pretending to find something interesting with the bottom of his shirt, but she was carefully listening to the conversation going on behind the desk.

"_They're cute together, aren't they?"_

"_Yeah. Like they were meant to be. And the guy? Have you seen anything hotter walking in since the American college boys come from Spring Break."_

"_The girl is kind of young for him, don't you think?"_

"_Love makes you blind, eh?"_

The two women giggled. The one at the computer typed a few more things then printed a sheet. The other grabbed a key, and held it out to them, pointing them down a hallway. Michael grabbed the key, nodding his approval. In one swift motion, he swept Aly up in his arms and started carrying her down the hallway. Aly squealed her approval.

"Oh Will. You're so romantic," her voice dripping with sweetness.

"_Isn't that just so cute…"_

"_Wish my boyfriend would do that!_"

Aly giggled as they walked past the desk and down towards their room. She laid her head near his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck. Michael looked down at her, then gave a little laugh, which she returned. She took the key from his left hand, and when they reached the door, she let one hand go to unlock and turn the knob. Michael kicked the door open wider and once they were in, he kicked it closed.

Aly slipped out of his arms, laughing the whole time. "That was hilarious. Did you see their look when you picked me up?" Tossing the keys on the dresser, she laid on the bed, still laughing.

"What were they saying, Al?" Michael leaned against the wall, watching her as she tried to catch her breath.

"Oh, they were just talking about how hot you were, and how mad they were that you were married," she replied, pulling a face. She sat up, and scooted over so that Michael could sit down.

"How did you learn Spanish, Aly?"

"I lived in Spain for a year. It was part of my training…"

"Training?"

Aly clamped a hand over her mouth, and grew very red. She shook her head at him.

"What do you mean by _training_, Aly?"

She continued shaking her head. Backing herself into a corner of the room, her arms crossed across her chest. "You don't need to know, right now, Michael. Let's just say that I'm on your side."

Michael pushed himself off of the bed, walking slowly closer to her, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Aly. Captain."

"Don't call me that."

"Captain Kiddo," he snickered.

"I'm not sixteen anymore. You are NOT allowed to use stupid nicknames for me. And I'm still not telling you anything." But that didn't stop Michael from moving closer, blocking her into that corner. Her eyes grew big, as she watched his hands come out of his pocket, and he reached towards her and began to tickle her.

"Stop. Stop. Please…. Michael. Stop!"

She had pushed away and was now crossing the room, her hands up, palms facing him. He was still coming closer, and she didn't even notice that the bed had suddenly appeared just behind her and fell against the covers. He attacked.

"Tell me, Captain Kiddo."

"No!" She replied defiantly, trying to fight him off of her. But he was easily winning. "Okay! Okay!"

She spread out; relieved by the respite he was allowing her. Michael was lying on his side, using his elbow to prop himself up. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. "I'm here to help, Michael. I have some inform… That's all I'm going to tell you. For now. Anything else could compromise that's going to go down—and could put you in even more danger." Laughing, Aly grabbed his hand. "Call the boys. They must be wondering where we are!"

Michael grabbed her wrist. "What information, Alexia Rose?"

His green eyes were piercing her. It took her breath away to even look at him. And he had used her middle name. He had never done that. How did he even know it? "Michael. I promise—I'll tell you everything. But right now is NOT the time." She was having a hard time keeping her tears from filling in her eyes. "You said earlier that you trust me. Well, you're just going to have to put your money where your mouth is." She pulled herself together and smiled. "Call the boys, and get them up here. People might get nosy."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The group had settled in for a nice siesta. The whole town had grown silence as the markets and bars, well… Everything had closed up for the couple of hours in the afternoon. The only sound that could be heard was the waves pulling up on the shore, but that's only because waves never take a siesta.

Aly didn't feel like napping. She was curled up on a chair, with a book in her hand. Her eyes studied the men, making sure that they were silently sleeping. And they were—sprawled over the bed and on the floors. Creeping over and between them, she slipped out the door, locking it behind her. The 'do not disturb' sign swung, making a little noise. Putting on her sunglasses, she rustled up her hair a little and walked through the main lobby.

"_Where is she going?"_

"_She's going to actually leave that man alone?"_

She stopped at the door, and went back to the desk. "Excuse me? Um… I've got to run and get some stuff for…" Looking around, she knew that she was starting to blush red. Though, she didn't know why. "Anyways, my boyfriend—I mean husband, is asleep. Please don't disturb."

"Sí senorita."

"Thanks!" Aly gave a little wave and scurried out of the building. Once outside, she made her way back to the bar, and the pay phone. She pulled out a card from her back pocket and began dialing. After a few moments of ringing, someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Greg. Oh good, it's you." Aly gave a quick prayer of thanks. "I need you to do something, bro."

"Aly. Where are you? I saw you on the television. A prison breakout and you're the hostage? What is going on?"

"Too many questions, Greg. You know the drill. I used a different alias this time because I can't have them tracking me. Now, I need you to do a couple of things for me."

"What, boss?"

"I need my laptop and the file that is on my desk. If you go to my apartment, my extra key is hanging on the door behind my sign that says "My cradle, keep out."

"Isn't called a 'crib'?"

"That's why this sign is so funny. Now, focus, Greg." She sighed and closed her eyes trying to visualize her apartment. "On my desk are my laptop and a manilla envelope. I need you to get both. And if you go over to the bookcase, in the book that has a green binding, the ONLY book with a green binding, is some money. Take the money. Use it to send my laptop, the envelope, to me. You're going to send it to Jenny Green. Let me give you the address for here. And send it overnight. I need this stuff pronto."

After giving him the address, Greg asked point blank "Are you in trouble, Al?"

Aly sighed. "I'm helping out an old friend and saving the free world, Greg. It's better that you ask less questions."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah." Aly bit her bottom lip, and put her head down closer to the phone box. "Get out of town. Go hide somewhere for awhile, Greg. Remember how you always wanted to live an endless summer? I recommend that you do it. NOW!"

"Aly? What is going on?"

"Like I said. The less questions the better. Just take your trip, Greg. And the less you use your credit cards—the better. And don't come back until I tell you."

"I hate having a sister like you."

"I know. I'm cursed at making your life unbearable. But some day, you'll forgive me. Just do those few things, and I'll be forever in your debt, Greg."

"You're already in my debt."

"Thanks for the reminder. Love ya." Hanging up the phone, Aly leaned forward against the phone box. She heard a noise to her left and without moving an inch, whispered, "Hi, Michael."

"You knew it was me?"

"You're the only one that has sandals and was awake when I left the room." She stood up to her full height, which was still a few noticeable inches below him. "You weren't supposed to leave. Now there is no reason for the maids to go check our rooms if the receptionists are the slightest bit suspicious."

"That's why I went out the back."

She sighed. "Michael. Why don't you trust me?"

Michael's hands dove into his pockets again. "After years of not seeing each other…" He took in a deep breath. "After hardly knowing one another except for occasional visits, when we hardly spoke… Would you feel safe in that situation?"

Aly took in a deep breath, closing her eyes slowly. "Michael…"

"Aly. I won't let anyone ruin my plan. ANYONE."

Her eyes locked onto his. "I know. That's why I'm going to help." Her voice gritted through her teeth. She was seething with irritation. Taking in a deep breath, she continued. "Give me time. When this package comes from Greg, I'll tell you everything, Michael. But it's better that you don't know my role in this play until that time." She went to touch him, but he made no movement towards her, his cold look never broke. She stepped back. "I'm going to go and get some food and bring it back to the room. We may be camped out for awhile."

Michael's silence was enough of a response for her. She turned on her heels and walked away. A few steps later, she wanted to turn and apologize. A few more steps and she was angry that he hadn't said anything. A few more steps she was sure that he would eventually forgive her, it was just lack of sleep and adrenaline that caused him to act that way. A few more steps, she was wondering how well she really knew Michael Scofield.

-----------------------------

Watching her hesitantly walk away was almost funny. She made movements, as if to give herself a pep talk to keep walking. Still, it bothered him that Aly wouldn't tell him.

At sixteen, she had been the shy little wallflower. Her glasses were always worn to watch television, or to drive, the gold frames clearly matching her blond hair which she kept short, though making her look a little more rounded than perhaps she would've wanted if she had noticed. But she hadn't noticed. She was too busy reading, or studying. Even at her age, Michael was always amazed how she could sit through a conversation between him, Greg, and their other roommate Jeff, and could understand the theories of physics that they would sometimes discuss over the holidays as they tried to finish their homework together. Her answers were always clear, concise, and exactly dead on. But she always had a canny way of disappearing, without anyone noticing it. She would just—be gone.

What had happened to her?

Michael turned his gaze to the telephone. It was just inviting him. He pulled out some lose change, and slipped it into the coin slot, and started dialing. After five rings, he was about to hang up, when a voice came over the line.

"Hello?"

"V? It's Michael."

"Where are you? Are you safe? How's Linc?"

Michael took in a deep breath. "We're fine. There's not a lot of time to talk, V. I need you to do something for me."

"Um…" She was breathless, trying hard to catch her breath. "Now's REALLY not a good time…"

"It's really important, V. I need you to find information on someone. I need you to research an 'Alexia Rose Hart'. Get me all the information that you can. I'll call you back tonight."

"Tomorrow."

"Two in the morning, tomorrow?"

It sounded as she stopped moving. "Okay. Two in the morning. I'll have the info."

"Thanks, Veronica."

He looked at his watch again. Another countdown would begin. This one wasn't for an escape—it was for the truth.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The snoring from the floor was enough to keep anyone awake. Lifting his wrist, he used the little light that came on his watch to tell him that it was ten minutes to two. The stillness of the night had finally reached that little city in Mexico. Michael was sprawled in one of the two chairs in the room. Although Aly had tried to take that spot, and while Michael had tried to convince her to sleep on the couch, she decided to just sleep on the floor, close to the sliding door. Taking a blanket and an extra pillow from the closet, she had curled up and was breathlessly resting.

Michael was careful as he tiptoed around each of the members of the crew. They were all tired. He knew. And they needed to have a better plan. He had already been forming on in his mind, giving it its last few tweaks before beginning preparations. And now, he needed to go get some more information to analyze.

The bar was completely dead, except for the bartender, and one very drunk man who was singing away in Spanish, strumming a guitar that wasn't really there. The coins fell into the slot of the phone—one, two…three…And Michael began dialing. After one ring Veronica picked up.

"I got it."

"Good."

"First—how's Lincoln? Is he okay?"

Michael sighed. He could tell how much she missed his brother. There was a tint of jealous that crept up his throat and in his voice, while the memory of Sara Tancredi crept into his mind. "He's good. Resting."

"I want to talk to him."

"Veronica. There could be a trace on your phone. Please."

"Alright." After a bit of rustling paper, she came back to the line. "Alexia Rose Hart. Graduated from John Hopkins University. Top of her class. Degrees in… WOW."

"V?"

"Right. Degrees in languages—express proficiency in Spanish and Arabic, also a degree in mathematics—numerology to be exact, and finally a degree in English. Triple major taking six years to complete. She was hired out of college with a private investigation company, which I couldn't find the name, and then the trail ends."

"It ends?"

"Sorry, Michael. You didn't give me enough time to go back and interview her family."

"Thanks, V. How's LJ?"

"Still in prison. He's been watched over, very carefully, now that his father broke out of jail."

"Good. We better hang up. I'll be in touch."

"Michael? Could you… Tell Linc that I love him."

Smiling, he nodded. "I will." He placed the receiver back on the line. He had already begun processing the information. A private investigator? It just didn't make any sense. What would a private investigator want with a bunch of convicts? Especially a man on death row.

------------------------------------

(Next morning, around 10 am)

She had gone running in the morning, and brought back some bagels and donuts from one of the stores that actually looked and acted like a grocery store. The hungry inmates had attacked and were devouring. Laughing, she had exited and found the hammock wide open. Aly slipped inside, enjoying the soft sands of the waves beating against the shores, while the morning sun hadn't yet peaked over the building. One leg was strung out, hanging over the side, helping her to rock back and forth. She closed her eyes in sweet euphoria.

A knock at the door brought silence to the room. Aly jumped out of the hammock. She dodged through the group to the door. "Hello?"

"We have a package for a Jenny Green?"

"That's me. Could you wait just a minute?" She turned around and motioned for everyone to get into the bathroom. She stuffed them in there, hardly any room, and quietly whispered, "Turn on the water," as she shut the door. She pulled off her t-shirt to reveal her sports bra, and kicked off her running shoes. It was so nice that she had stuck some extra cash in her wallet before leaving the house two days earlier.

Opening the door, a new girl was standing there, with the package. Her long black hair curled so perfectly, Aly wished that her hair could be so luxurious. The girl's big brown eyes took in Aly, and the view of the room.

"Oh my gosh! Thank you so much for bringing this! It's a little honeymoon surprise from my college girls. You're the best," Aly gushed, taking the package. She turned around and ran to the dresser, taking a couple of American dollars that was change from the money she had broken to get the donuts, and gave them to the girl. "Thank you again."

The girl nodded and turned to walk away, counting the money. Aly banged on the door to the bathroom, "Alright. It's safe for you to come out."

But she didn't stay to help them out. Instead, she went over the little table in the corner, with the chair, and immediately started ripping at the box. A manilla envelope and a laptop. And a few hundred dollar bills. Oh, how she loved her brother.

T-Bag was next to her, checking out the merchandise—whether it was her or the stuff, she couldn't tell. "What do we have here, Angel?"

"Stuff that's going to help us all." Pulling out the envelope, she scanned a few things, before stuffing it and throwing it back on the laptop. "I've got to go make a phone call." She grabbed her shirt, and threw it on, and slipped on her sandals before heading out the door. "I'll be back soon, sweetheart," she called loudly enough that the people down at the receptionist desk turned and glanced in her direction.

Skipping down the hall, she waved at the receptionists and the rest of the staff that had congregated, then bolted out and across the yard—back to the bar.

None of the early risers had arrived yet, and all the night owls seemed to have crawled into their holes. The sun was shining brightly, and the phone was usable. Her fingers dialed the well known number, and the ringing began. She didn't even wait for an answer, as soon as the phone was picked up, she began talking.

"Hey Greg. I got the package. Just wanted to check and make sure you had left. Are you heading towards Australia?"

A long pause and heavy breathing was her reply. "Greg?"

"Hello, Agent Hart."

Her eyebrows dipped together, her teeth gritted, "Kellerman."

"Thought you were so smart, didn't you? Using a different alias."

"Took you long enough. Leave my brother out of this. He has nothing to do with it."

"Oh—he has EVERYTHING to do with it. Time is ticking, Hart. We have a tracer on this call. Now, I want you to give me Burrows. If you don't, your dear dear brother is dead."

Something caught in her throat. She couldn't breath. "You don't know what you're doing," she replied, breathlessly.

"I know exactly what I'm doing." There was some wrestling, and then she hear Kellerman's voice tell someone to talk.

"Aly. Don't do it. Don't give in. I saw the papers. I saw your research."

"Well, what a kind brother, you have, Hart. Willing to sacrifice himself." Kellerman's voice was crude and harsh. "What's it going to be, Hart? Burrows? Or your brother?"

The words choked at her throat. "I… I…"

"Tracer will be complete, Hart, in a few seconds. And this will have been worthless."

"I love you, Aly. Let me do this for you."

"I love you, Greg," she whispered as she heard the discharge of a gun. Her automatic reaction was to hang up, and step back from the phone. Hugging herself, she started wandering.

--------------------------

Lincoln was the first to notice that she hadn't come back. Well, the first to comment on it. It was starting to get late, and no one had seen Aly since that morning when she had said that she was heading down to the beach.

"Maybe she had a change of heart and is going to turn herself and all of us in…"

"Oh, please…stop being so optimistic, Sucre," T-Bag smirked. But it was Lincoln who stood up and started for the sliding door. "Where are you going?"

"To look for her. She's out there. Something's not right. And I'm going to go and find out what."

Michael looked up from her laptop that he had been busily searching. Lincoln was already out the door. The rest of the gang turned towards Michael. He stood up, and started after his brother.

-------------------------

They had searched everywhere. And they were starting to get even more worried about what was going on. Every bar, every pay phone—everything had been checked and double checked. Aly had disappeared. But Linc wouldn't give up. And it was he who had decided to try the beach.

As soon as they had stepped out onto the sand, near the hotel, they noticed the long figure, sitting on the sand. The head was buried in the knees, and except for the occasional shudder, the shadow seemed to sit perfectly still. The brothers looked at one another, before beginning their walk. They closer they got, the better they were able to recognize Aly. Her arms hugged her knees closer to her body, her face hidden away. But the cries they could hear closely.

Lincoln and Michael stopped a few feet from her. But it was Linc who stepped forward, and kneeled down next to her. His white shirt clung to his form, his khaki shorts showed off his muscular calves. "Aly?"

Her head came up slowly, her eyes red. When she focused in on who it was, she quickly started wiping her eyes. When she started to stand, her balance was lost and she began falling, except Lincoln caught her and held her up straight.

"Th…thank you," she stammered.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded, and began to walk back towards the hotel, but two steps from Lincoln and her legs lost all strength. Lincoln was there to catch her and bring her up in his arms, cradling her as they headed back to the hotel. Her cries became sobs, as she buried her face in Lincoln's shirt. They stopped near the resort, knowing that she needed to go back through the front door. Michael pulled her out of Lincoln's arms, and let her slide until her feet touched the ground. He supported her as she dried her eyes.

"What happened? Were you hurt?"

"No."

"Why…?"

"Michael." She said his name so quickly, her eyes shot up. "I'm a federal agent."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"What?"

"A fed. I worked for the FBI. For the people that are trying to kill your brother." She glanced up at Linc, and then hung her head. "I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you."

"Aly…" Michael's voice was tender, but Aly couldn't stand it. Looking around, she noticed that dusk had settled onto the city. Taking her shirt, she lifted it up and wiped away her eyes. Putting her hands on Michael's chest, she pushed away from him slightly.

"Listen. I need to go back, and I'll meet you in the motel. But Michael…I need you to do something."

-------------------

Michael and Lincoln slipped back into the room through the sliding door. T-Bag was lazily napping in the hammock, swinging back and forth on the back deck, while Westmoreland, Sucre, C-Note and Abruzzi were sprawled out on the bed and floor, watching the television. They had the news channel on, Sucre translating what they were saying.

Glancing once at the television, Michael noticed their inmate pictures pasted on the screen. Everyone would be looking for them. But he had something to do. He went straight for the door, opening it quickly, and shutting it just as fast. He stormed down to the front desk, trying to make all sorts of noise, then stepped to the front desk, his hands digging into his pockets.

"Um…excuse me? But you haven't seen my uh…wife…lately, have you?"

The receptionists looked up from their work, and giggled. The way they gawked at him, was rather frustrating. He turned around and looked out onto the lawn, and noticed that she had just started running up the path. Running out, he met her halfway.

"Oh." She ran straight into his arms, and put her head into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, curious as to why she was holding on so tight. Michael started to turn towards the motel, but her feet remained firmly planted to the cement. "No. Michael. Listen to me. We are in trouble. Kellerman knows who I am. And he may know where we are. When we go back to the room, we need to prepare to leave. He's…he's…" Michael looked down at her and noticed that she had already started crying again. The tears welled up in her eyes, her voice softly whispered, "he killed Greg."

Michael let go of her, and bent down just enough to be able to take a good look at her. "Greg?"

"I heard it. On the phone. He was taunting me. Wanted me to kill Lincoln or else he would… And I couldn't give up your brother. So… He took mine." Her last few sounds became sobs, as she buried herself into his shirt. After a few minutes of crying, she stepped away and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm fine now. We need to go. Now. I bought some things when I was out, and I have a connection working on false papers. We have to get back to the states."

Michael nodded, and then pulled her closer, before they started back into the motel. They walked briskly past the desk, Michael giving a small wave, and down the hall, back into their room. Once inside, she pulled from her waist band some hair dyes, and contact lenses. She tossed them onto the bed.

"Okay. Look. Here's the plan. We're going back across the border. To San Diego. I have some friends there. Everyone needs to look different. I have to leave in an hour to pick up some clothes for you and for our papers. We will leave tomorrow morning. No questions." She pulled a bottle of hair dye from her socks, and put it with her manila envelope. She paused for a moment, and then turned to look at Michael. "You were snooping?"

Michael got closer to her; he lowered his voice until only she could hear it. "I needed to know. You wouldn't tell me anything." He brushed a piece of her hair back, but Aly quickly whipped away.

"Fair enough." She closed down the laptop, and nodded to the pile of supplies. "You better go find a pair of contacts, and a hat or something. Something that would disguise you until we get to San Diego. And once we get there—I'll think of something else."

"What are you going to do?"

Aly shrugged and then looked at the bottle of hair dye. "I'm going to go get us some papers to get back across the border."

-------------------------------------

The little hut was right along the beach—the back door leading to the ocean. At high tide, the water would almost dance right beneath the hammock that was tied up between two palm trees. There was a light in the window, and she knew that was her single that it would be alright for her to come. Aly had been there earlier that day, and she was so glad that Jorge was still around.

"_Hello, friend. It has been a long time,_" he replied as she stepped through the door and let the old blanket fall across the door frame once again hiding them from all view.

"_You're telling me. I'm glad that I found you._"

"_I have everything here that you wanted, querida. All of the paperwork that you could possibly need._" He handed over another envelope. She pulled at the end, and let the papers fall into her hand. She quickly examined them, her eyes trained to spot even the slightest problem. But as always, Jorge was unbelievable with forgery.

"_Thank you, Jorge. I really appreciate this,_" she replied as she headed for the door.

"_So, who is he, sweet?_"

"_Pardon?_" She looked up at him, pausing in front of the colorful blanket that kept out all light. Jorge stepped closer to her. He was large, very muscular. His face was round and brown with a funny little black mustache across his upper lip. His lips twitched into a smile.

"_Querida. I know that you're doing this for one of them. Which one is he?_"

"_It's to help a friend. Nothing more_." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, stuffing it into his hand. "_You never talked to me. You never saw me. You have no idea that I was here, Jorge. Got it?_"

"_Clear as crystal. I shall miss you. And I don't even know your real name._"

"_It's better that we keep it that way. Thank you, again, Jorge. God bless._" Nodding to him, Aly ducked out into the night air. She pulled her arms into a tight hug across her body. The cool ocean breeze was starting its nightly run across the beach, and she longed for a jacket. But there was hardly any time. They would have to check out tonight, explain that they were leaving early in the morning, and then try and make it up the coast as soon as possible. San Diego wasn't that far, but they had little time to get there. For all she knew, Kellerman may be on his way.

Aly arrived at the hotel, to find the receptionist area empty. So much for checking out early. Michael would just have to do it in the morning. There was no way she could be seen if she was drastically changing her appearance. A plan started to formulate in her mind, as she walked down the halls. If she left early, she could grab a taxi, and just wear a baseball hat to cover her hair, which she would dye. Michael could check out and then they could meet at a designated location. If she remembered right, there was always an extra car at the FBI safe house about two miles from this town. If they could get there, they could get that car, and head back across the border without any problems. Or so she hoped.

------------------------------

Surprisingly, everyone was fast asleep. Michael was surprised by how quickly they could all be rendered unconscious. But then again, they had traveled a long distance, in a very short amount of time.

Aly had come through. She had gotten them a car, and their forged papers had gotten them across the border. Linc ended up having to wear a wig that Aly had managed to get to look real, and the others had to rely on some fancy make up and dye, but they all managed to pass through border patrol without so much as an extra look. Aly had then taken them through the streets of San Diego, to a very quiet neighborhood towards the northern part of the county, where everyone seemed to be in their house by nine o'clock and in bed by midnight. There, she had introduced them to some of her friends, but as the sun was appearing over the horizon, no one was really in the mood for introductions.

Snores came from every part of the apartment. Even from the little chair in the corner. Aly was curled up in a ball, her head resting against her knees. She shifted every few minutes, but still managed to stay in the same position. One leg lazily slid down until it touched the floor, right next to his leg. Her leg swung back and forth, her barefoot grazed the top of his leg. He smiled to himself. Even with her now brown hair, he couldn't get over the fact that she hadn't really changed that much since she was sixteen. But then again, he didn't remember noticing her as much as he did now. Michael continued to study her, how her breathing was never deep, never quite reaching a steady rhythm. Her eyes moved rapidly beneath her eyelids, as if some plan was being formulated at that very instant.

She intrigued him.

That was the conclusion of everything. No matter how many things she told him, he knew that there was something more that she wasn't saying. And THAT bothered him. For once, he was no longer in control. She was. She held all of the cards.

"Is something bothering you, Michael?"

Her voice was gentle, so soft. He looked up at her' the sun was peering through the window, crowning her brown hair with a reddish hue. Her blue eyes were bloodshot; one of her hands was rubbing away the sleep she must have felt.

"No. I'm fine. Get some more sleep, Al."

"I can't. I have some calls I need to make," she replied, making a move out of the chair. But Michael blocked her movements with his leg.

"You haven't slept for a long time. Get some sleep, Aly."

Her eyes glanced down at the watch strapped around her wrist, and then gave a defeated look. But instead of curling back up into the chair, she slid down onto the floor, and laid herself next to Michael. She turned her back to him, but scooted close enough where he could feel her warmth. She gave a sigh, and her whole body seemed to relax with that one move. Michael stretched out his arm, right next to her head, and stroked her hair. Aly turned a little, enough to get him into her line of sight, and then moved her head until it was gently in the crook of his shoulder. She was still turned away from him.

Within a few moments, her breathing found a steady rhythm. Michael enjoyed this sensation, of having someone close. It had been a long time. Perhaps never had he felt that need of having someone close. Except when he was around Sara.

Sara.

Where was she? What was she doing? These questions and others went through his mind, until he decided that perhaps it was better to forget about Sara. She said everything that needed to be said in her letter. But that didn't make the wanting any less difficult.

Michael felt a shiver on his arm, and then noticed that Aly was shaking over her whole body. There was no blanket in close proximity—it was San Diego. It was supposed to be paradise all day and all night for the entire year—not freezing cold as it was in the morning. So Michael reached his free arm over her waist, and pulled her close. He rubbed his hand over her arm, trying to get some warmth into her. Aly tensed for a moment, and then relaxed with a sigh. Her shivers stopped.

But Michael's just started.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

There was a bang, and it made her eyes fly open. What she found was… well, quite the sight.

Her hand was resting on Michael's chest, her head cradled on his shoulder. She was laying on her stomach, but so close was Michael that she was practically lying on him! Aly rolled away quickly, fortunately, he continued to sleep on. She pushed herself up, and took note of the room. The sound had come from opposite side, where T-Bag had rolled off of the couch and was laying across the wood floor, moaning in pain.

"He deserves it," she muttered under her breath. Rubbing her eyes, she went into the bathroom. Her eyes were redder than they had been in a long time, and her face was devoid of any make up. Her hair was now brown—a far cry from the natural blond that she had come to love. Why had she changed hairstyles? She had liked being a blond. Then she remembered.

A disguise.

A mask. Call it what you will, but she was trying to hide. Hide away from everything that had brought her to this point. Turning on the water in the sink, she splashed some in her eyes, and tried to find refuge in the refreshment that the cool water offered her. Then, Aly remembered her laptop. She had a lot of work to do—and not a long time to do it.

------------------------------

A slight knock at the door sent everyone for cover, except Aly. She continued working on the computer, even while the door was opening. "Hi, Scotty. Home already?"

The tall thin man quickly shut the door. "Aly! You have to be more careful. Someone is going to realize that you're here."

She shrugged. "Scotty. You know the routine."

"Yeah." He tossed his backpack into the corner, and came around to the back of the chair to look at her laptop. The gang started to come out from their hiding spots—behind the couch, in the closets, underneath the bed in the bedroom, the pantry in the kitchen. Any place they could find.

Scotty bent low, and tipped his hat back so he could see the screen better. "Wow. That's crazy, Aly."

"I know, Scotty. It goes deep. Are you still willing to help?"

"You know me. I love my resume. Anything to make me look better."

"Good. I'll brief you a little later. I just have to organize this some more, and make my statements a little more clear…"

"What could possibly keep your attention, Angel?"

She had hardly noticed that T-Bag was right next to her, leaning down on the armrest of her chair, his hand poised to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen to her face. She shifted away from him, and shut the laptop. "Okay…It's cabin fever, isn't it? We hit on the first female that we can find?"

"Ah…Angel. Believe me. What I feel is fever, but it's a different…"

"T-Bag. Leave her alone."

Michael stood close, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but giving that look. Aly didn't like that look, and neither did T-Bag because he retreated to the corner. Michael watched him walk away; then turning back to Aly, his look did not change.

"Thanks," she replied, getting up.

"Al."

"Yeah?"

"What's the next step? We can't just stay here forever."

"I…"

But Westmoreland stood. He had shaved away his mustache, and died his hair brown, and found a white t-shirt and gray pair of pants. Scotty had found him a cigarette and he was lazily puffing away. "I've got a daughter to go visit. I don't care if I get caught. I'm getting old." He went to a tray he saw on the coffee table and put out the cigarette. "I'm going. I can't wait here. She may die before I get to her. And I'm not cut out for all of this running business."

Aly and Michael both were watching him carefully, as he crossed the room to Michael. "I'm leaving tonight."

"Yeah. That goes for me too," C-Note replied. "I can't wait much longer. I've got to get to my family."

"You'll both be captured. You'll be sent back to prison," Aly whispered, bowing her head.

Westmoreland looked at C-Note, both nodding quietly. They seemed resigned to that. But Aly ran over to her stack of things in the corner of the room. She went into the envelope, before looking through a few papers. She pulled out two papers, and glanced over them, before returning to the men. She held out the pieces of paper to each of them.

They took them, both with questioning glances, and began grazing over. The rest of the men in the apartment gathered around the two. Aly stepped back, allowing the two men time. It was C-Note who spoke first.

"This is proof. Of what happened…" He paused, and took in a deep breath before looking up at her. "…of what happened in Iraq."

Aly nodded slowly. "It has been sent to the proper authorities, and your dishonorable release will have been overturned already. You will receive the letter in a few days, calling you into the military court to receive your honor back."

C-Note continued to just stare at the paper. Westmoreland glanced at Aly, tears freely falling from his eyes. "This is a letter. Allowing me to go see my daughter. Signed by the Governor."

"I know. It is a forgery, but it will give you safe passage to see your daughter." Aly's voice cracked a little, but she took in a deep breath. "Go to her. Tell her you love her. She's been waiting for that…"

Westmoreland walked to her, and in all the tenderness of a father, took her in his arms. Aly felt comfortable there, and allowed an old man a moment. When he composed himself again, he pulled away and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Thank you," he replied gruffly, moving away, his cheeks burning a deep red color. She nodded slowly, and then perked up, her eyes growing big.

"Oh!" She ran to the printer in the far corner, and came back with more papers. "Bus tickets. They leave tonight. You won't have trouble on a bus. I've checked. They think we've already skipped the country. They're actually in Mexico—looking." She again passed them off to them.

Silence passed between them. "It's nothing," she finally replied. There wasn't a sound that passed between all of them for a long time. Finally, Aly began to feel uncomfortable. She turned to her friend. "Scotty. Um…I think I want to go out for awhile. You got some bars around here or something?"

Scotty put his arm around her, and pulled her close. "Yeah. Yeah, Kiddo. I got just the place. Anyone else game?"

----------------------------------

It took some doing, but she had gotten them all out of the apartment. Scotty knew of a bar down by the university, where no one really paid attention to who walked in. It was in a back part of the city, so no one would expect a bunk of escaped convicts to show up there.

Michael looked over at Aly while she gave her fake id to the security guard, who let her through. She had slipped on a pair of jeans, and a bright turquoise shirt. Her hair was up in a loose ponytail, swaying back and forth with each of her movements. She never walked with a skip—but rather every step seemed to have been contemplated. She hadn't looked at anyone since leaving the apartment.

Neither C-Note nor Westmoreland had come along. They had started off on their journey—Aly and Scotty took them to the bus depot to make sure they got off alright. It was kind of Aly, to take care of them, like that. But with Westmoreland gone—so was the money that they were in desperate need of.

Scotty and Aly both went up to the bar, ordering seven beers, while T-Bag, Abruzzi, Linc, Sucre and Michael stood around, taking in the sight of the bar. It was pretty big, for something that was for a university. The crowd was slim, but people were just starting to arrive. Aly called for them, motioning them to follow her and her friend to a back table. She set down her three glasses of beer, and started pulling chairs from other tables around so that they could all sit at the table.

T-Bag immediately slipped into the seat next to hers, his arm draping over the back of her chair. But Aly's eyes were focused on the glass in front of her, and the foam that was slowly dissolving. They drank in silence, song after song playing over the loud speakers, punctuated by the sound of crashing balls from the pool table.

"So…" Michael smiled, nodding his head in time with the music.

"Rough week, huh?" Lincoln smiled back at Michael before taking a gulp of his drink.

"I miss my chica," Sucre moaned.

Abruzzi pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. He let the smoke blow out slowly. "So…Fish…" Michael glanced up from his gaze on the table. "…When are you going to tell me about Fibonacci?"

Aly's head shot up, and she glared at Abruzzi then turned her eyes to Michael. He saw this from the corner of his eye, but he wouldn't meet hers. "In time."

"Do you still play, Michael?"

Michael turned his head, so that she was barely in his view. She was looking down at her drink again, but after a moment, she only looked up at him with her head still down. "Play?"

She licked her lips. "Yeah. You know, pool? Still play?"

"I'd like to play you, Angel." T-Bag moved his hand until his fingers ran down her side. She straightened, and then quickly stood up.

"Are you game?"

Michael noticed that T-Bag was smirking, almost daring him to not make a move. He knew what she wanted him to say. But he also knew why she wanted him to. "I'll rack 'em," he conceded.

He went to the bar and got the balls and the cues. He could still hear over the chatter in the bar, her voice. She was moving away from the table and group, trying to make her way to the table. But T-Bag was up and grabbed her hand, pulling her close. She shoved him away, and said something like "Remember the last few times this happened? I recommend you stay away." T-Bag pulled his hands away, but continued to have that silly grin across his face. Michael collected the tools for the game, and met Aly at the table.

She was blushing bright red, but took one of the cues and the chalk, and immediately began work, while Michael set up. Her teeth gritted, as Michael prepared the rack at the far end of the table. She placed the cue ball onto the table, and as soon as he lifted the triangle rack, she took aim and fired.

The white ball flew through the air, barely missing a few people on its' journey to the floor. Michael glanced over at her, before setting the rack down and grabbing the cue ball. He came around to her end of the table, and showed her the ball.

"You don't play, do you?"

Taking the ball from him, she stepped closer. "I do play. Very well." There was a fire behind those eyes. "I was just…I just got…" her voice slowly slid away as she recognized how close they really had gotten. They were within inches…centimeters of one another. "…distracted…" she added lamely.

"So…concentrate."

She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. He reached around her, and took the cue ball, placing it on the round marker in the middle of the table. He stepped back to let her have another shot. She seemed to relax a little more.

This time, the cue ball slid straight into the triangle, sending the balls flying across the table. None went in. Michael applied chalk to his cue stick, and then made his way around the table, analyzing each ball's position.

"Are you really going to give him up?"

"Perhaps. We'll see what he'll do for it," he replied, without even taking his eyes off of the layout of the table. He squatted down so that he could have a good level view of the table.

Aly stepped closer to him, leaning down until he was next to his ear. "You're just going to tell him where an innocent man is."

Michael shrugged and stood up, nearly knocking Aly away. He lined up the stick, and hit the white ball, sending one of the striped balls into the corner pocket. "I'm stripes. You're solids." He began circling again, searching for his next victim on the table. After a few more hits, and a couple of balls in, it was her turn. She strolled her way around the table, taking the chalk just next to him.

"You don't need his connections. I have everything you need," she whispered, while pretending to work on her cue stick.

"Really? News to me."

"Does he have five million dollars?" She asked, as she downed one of the solid balls into a side pocket. She turned to look at him. He was standing close, intrigued by what she had to say. "Westmoreland told me where he hid the money—as return for helping him, to get to see his daughter. He knows that he belongs in prison. He doesn't want to go anywhere else. Plus, I found him a new kitten to have," she smiled, leaning down again and sinking another solid ball.

"Suddenly, you have all the answers."

She missed her next shot. She gazed up at him from her shooting position, but quickly came closer. "I always did."

Michael took his turn around the table. He lined up for a perfect shot. Just as he was about to hit the ball, her sweet breath was on his ear. The shot was clean and the ball went in. Michael was grateful for his steady hand, his heart was another matter. At the next shot, he completely missed, his concentration shot.

As Aly lined up for the next shot, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. Michael watched as T-Bag slipped up behind her, one hand creeping around her waist, while the other slid down the stick she held. His whole body crushed against hers. "Angel. You mustn't tease. Didn't you learn it's not nice."

"And didn't you learn it's not polite to hit on a girl when you're drunk!" She tried to push away but his grip was good. Michael was the one who finally pulled him off.

"Go hit on someone else. And stop making a scene."

T-Bag huffed, and turned to look at Aly, a deep lustful look, as if he was drinking in every imaginable angle of her. "You will never know sweetness, Angel. Until you're mine." Michael stepped between them, towering over T-Bag. His arms folded across his chest, he looked like a formidable opponent. T-Bag retreated to the table.

When Michael turned around, Aly was back to lining up her shot. He leaned close. "I think we'll have to get rid of him, as well."

"Why? I think he adds a little entertainment," Aly's voice had a bit of sharpness to it as she sunk another ball into a pocket. Michael gawked at her.

"He makes a scene everywhere we go. And especially around you. It's like he's performing. He doesn't LIKE you, Aly." His last words were spat into her ear. Stopping abruptly, she turned and lifted up her face. She opened her mouth, but then shut it, and returned to circling the table. She continued to play, her words few and far between each of her shots.

He didn't understand her. And that bothered him. A lot.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

The game ended, with Aly making a huge comeback, knocking four balls into the pocket without so much as flinching, and then sinking the 8-ball on that same turn. She was gloating in the victory when they returned to the table. The others were on their fourth glass of beer. Aly slowly started drinking her second, the bitter taste feeling sweet for once.

The men were all laughing. But she didn't feel any desire to discover the reason why. She really just wanted to go home. Her head was starting to hurt—probably from the beer. It had been a long time since she had drank alcohol. And it was starting to make her not feel so good. T-Bag was continuing to try and snuggle up, but she had started moving her chair around the table. This last time, his hand had followed down the back of her chair, landing on the part of her back that was exposed between where her shirt ended, and her jeans began. She slid her chair over a little bit more, not noticing that she slammed against Michael. He stopped listening to the conversation, and glanced down at her. She knew that she was starting to blush.

Inching away from him, she endured T-Bag's breath on her neck for all of three seconds, before she took her glass and went around to the bar. She passed the glass back to the bartender. When he offered her another beer she shook her head. After taking a seat on one of the stools, she buried her head in her hands.

A hand across her back made her jump. She quickly pulled away, but Michael continued to hold his hand on her back. She knew that she looked horrible. But he showed no sign of disgust at her, most likely, repulsive appearance. His eyes only showed concern.

"You've had a long couple of days, Aly. Maybe I should take you home."

She nodded slowly, everything growing a bit fuzzier. The music seemed a little bit louder than normal, and the room danced a little more. Next time, she'd skip the beer and just stick with water. Or a soda.

His hand was on hers, guiding her towards the door. She really didn't know how she managed to walk the streets. And it was kind of difficult for her to even speak. Her words tended to slur together. It was an odd detachment that she felt—like her body and mouth were completely separated from her mind. And she certainly didn't like it.

But by the time they arrived at Scotty's door, she was giggling. She wasn't sure if Michael had said something funny. She was pretty sure that he had. Stumbling through the doorway, she held her hand to her head. "I think I need some water."

With everything she could, she went to the refrigerator and found a water bottle. After a few seconds of struggling to open the bottle. Michael took it from her, and easily took off the cap. "Thanks, dude. I owe ya."

She nearly tripped on her way to her big arm chair in the corner. The laptop was on the ground in front of it, along with a few papers she had been looking over. Falling back into the chair, she made sure that her feet were dangling over the armrest. That's how she liked to sit. Her headache was coming on strong now.

"Captain Kiddo?"

"Hmm?"

"How do you know Scotty?"

"Why do you insist on calling me Captain Kiddo? How in the world did I get that name?"

Michael was smiling at her. She saw that smile and that gleam in his eye, and it started to lift her off the chair. He sat down on the couch just adjacent to her. He crossed one leg over the other, the sole of his shoe facing outward, his body relaxing against the back of the couch. "Do you remember how you used to watch _Star Trek_ all of the time?"

"That's only because my boyfriend at the time was a science geek. He wanted his girlfriend to know everything that was related to science. Made it easy for me to play a geeky nerd on undercover assignments."

"Have you done a lot of those?"

She was eyeing him as she slowly took another drink from the water bottle. He was so relaxed. For once, there was the Michael that had been over to her house, had played _Trivial Pursuit_ (which she always won at) and _Risk_ (which she won a good eighth of the time) with her. There was not faking this. And suddenly, she started feeling things that she hadn't felt since she was sixteen and sure that she was just lonely for someone who would actually hold her—unlike Steven who would barely touch her hand.

His intense look and cough caused her to pull out her thoughts. "Oh. Yeah. I mean, yes. I've been a field agent for a long time. It helps that I speak some languages really well."

"Spanish and Arabic. Kind of on opposite ends of the spectrum."

Aly glared at Michael for awhile, then let her face soften into a smile. "I see you've been doing your own research, Chief." Her head fell back against the soft chair. "No. Spanish actually has some words that are strictly Arabic in origin. In comes from the Muslims that conquered Spain and brought with them their language and culture. Spanish became influenced by this time period. So while they're very different, they have many similarities."

"Like you and Scotty."

Aly laughed. Nothing else seemed appropriate to do.

"How did you meet him, Aly?"

She put the water bottle down and spun her body until her feet were on the ground. But it still took her a second to get her bearings. "He was investigative reporter for the university newspaper. And I was the investigator," she giggled at the thought. "We were always together. Him trying to find the story, and me doing the digging."

"And you two…" His eyes seemed to be searching hers. Aly looked away.

"What are you? Playing Greg, now?"

"Someone needs to look out for you…"

Her heart stopped. Suddenly, she remembered where they were—who they were. It was not even close to her sixteen year old heart fantasies. Perhaps this was her new nightmare. She stood up and walked over to the glass sliding doors that had a beautiful view of the city. "I… Yeah, we dated. But we were never right. He always had some new story to discover. And I always had some new mission to do." She hugged herself as she continued to look away. "Saving the world is a tough, lonely job."

Her laughing stopped when she felt his hands on her arms. There was an irregularity to her heartbeat as it started to thump loudly in her chest. Her eyes closed, wanting to hold on to the moment. She felt him come around to face her, and slowly she opened her eyes.

His fingers lightly touched her cheek, his thumb rubbing against an imaginary spot. He bent closer to her. She watched his eyes as they traced her face, her cheeks, her nose, finally landing on her lips. She let her eyes close, so that she could use her other senses to enjoy this moment. His shallow breathing. His warm breath on her skin. His light touch.

But after a few moments of waiting, she smiled. "You like her, don't you?"

When he didn't reply, Aly opened her eyes. He was still so close, but his eyes were now searching hers. "Sara. Tancredi. You like her, don't you?"

"I…"

"Yeah. You do," she touched his cheek lightly. "Don't give up on her so easily, Michael. You have her, right where you want her," she whispered into his ear.

He took in a deep breath, his whole body filling with air, then letting in all come out. "I don't understand."

Aly had moved around him to her stack of things on the coffee table. "You will." She grabbed a set of keys, and headed for the door. When she opened it, there was Lincoln and Sucre, laughing it up. They took one look at her, but she pushed past them, afraid that the tears had already begun. And that was the last thing she needed right now.

----------------------------

Michael watched as she walked between Lincoln and Sucre. She was down the stairs and out of view within moments. His hand came up to rub at his face, his mind beginning to analyze what had just happened. In all of his thoughts, he drifted to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer bottle. Popping it open, he took a drink, letting the cool drink slid down.

"Michael? What was that all about?"

Lincoln was standing across the kitchen bar counter, staring at Michael, trying to get a reading on his face. Sucre had leaned across the same said counter, and was picking at some popcorn that had been left in the bag.

"Nothing. It was nothing."

"Papi. Didn't look like nothing," Sucre added, munching away at the popped kernels. "I would not say there was _nada_ that had happened. Looked like a big something."

Michael was mid drink, and his eyes grew big. He finished his guzzle, setting the bottle down very firmly on the counter. "Leave it alone."

Lincoln stepped closer, putting both hands on the counter. "Look. I don't care what you do. I just know that she's the person that seems to have all of the answers and all the ways to keep out of jail. And I don't care what is or isn't going on between you. We need to get things together."

Letting go of his beer, Michael started to walk to the bedroom to be alone with his thoughts. But he paused, not turning to look at his brother and his friend. "We are in this together." With that he went into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed, to be alone with his thoughts.

----------------------------

In the car, she blasted the music. She hoped that it would erase everything that had just happened. Everything that was happening to her.

But it didn't.

If anything, it only intensified it. Of course, it didn't help that every station was playing the songs that she didn't want to hear—those songs that relate so well to her predicament. She gunned the gas, hoping that perhaps the speed would relieve her of these feelings.

It didn't.

Finally, she exited the freeway, coasting down the city streets. The bay was covered with boats and lights—it looked so peaceful. She wished that she had time to stop and gaze over it, but she was barely making it as it was. With a few more turns, her car glided into the front walkway of the airport terminal. It didn't take long for her to find who she wanted. She parked her car right in front of the person, and without turning off the car, got out.

"Dr. Tancredi. Thank you for coming. I'm Aly Hart."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's note: I write the story that I see. I'm sorry if you can't see that same story. Please know that I understand why you want a certain coupling and such. I think I might just write two endings. But that might be a little much. But then again--I'm starting to see two different endings. Thanks to those who have read, and to those who have reviewed. I appreciate your thoughts. They help me have more confidence in my writing. Enjoy!

**Chapter Eleven**

"Should I know you?"

Aly looked up and down at Sara Tancredi. She was dressed in comfortable looking slacks, a long coat coming to her knees. Her hair was down, long, brown and very straight. Definitely not the usual vision of a doctor, unless they were trying to sell the profession on the big screen. Taking in a deep gulp, Aly stepped forward and stuck out her hand.

"No. You don't need to know me. After tonight it might be better if we pretend like we never met. I was the one who called you. About the Doctors of Prison Society Conference."

Sara took Aly's hand very cautiously. She was carefully eyeing Aly. "I do know you. You're the officer that was taken with the inmates from Fox River…" Sara's brown eyes grew very large and round. "…There is no conference, is there?"

"Look. We REALLY need to get going. You have somewhere you need to be. And I have some things to do before I have somewhere I need to be. So if you'll just hop on in—we can begin this journey together," Aly gestured to the passenger side, where she had opened the door. Sara made no movement towards the car. Aly stepped closer to Sara again. "I will explain EVERYTHING in the car. Please, just get in. I will force you if necessary." Aly pulled at her shirt a little to show the butt of a gun concealed right underneath.

Sara immediately got into the car and shut the passenger side door.

Aly smiled to herself and went around to her side. Just as she was about to turn out into traffic, she noticed Sara grab for the door and turn as if she was going to run. But nothing happened. The window down button produced the same results—nothing. Aly's smile grew even bigger as she noted that she had the window lock button on and the child lock on the door.

"You might as well get comfortable. We have a twenty minute drive. That's all."

"Why are you doing this? If you wanted to kidnap me, you could have done it in Illinois."

"I'm not kidnapping you, Sara. You came on your own free will."

"You lied to me."

Aly opened her mouth, her eyes squinting. "If I had told you that I was the officer who had been taken by the inmates and I need you to come to San Diego because Michael Scofield is missing you a lot—what would you have done?" With a quick glance, she noticed that Sara's head had bowed and gone red, her hands neatly clasped together in her lap. "Yeah—that's what I thought. You would've told the police that you thought they were in San Diego."

Sara's head snapped up. "You can't judge me. I helped them escape. It nearly cost me my job."

"Yeah. You left a door unlocked. Told the police it was an honest mistake. Such help."

"Who _are_ you?"

Her mouth slid into a smile. "That doesn't matter."

"Why are you helping them?"

Aly's face fell, the tears that had come freely before were now threatening to appear in her eyes. "Because I know Linc is innocent."

"That's all? Some reason to risk everything."

Anger swelled up in Aly. "An innocent man could be killed. That's reason enough! But you—you need to be in love with someone to do something so small as to let them have a way out."

"And you aren't?"

"What?" Her voice had gone hoarse and was almost a whisper.

"In love with someone?"

For a moment, they just stared at one another, until Aly turned her attention back to the road. But in that time, something passed between them. They both became very quiet.

----------------------

Michael was lying on the bed in the bedroom. The door was open just a crack. He had found a tennis ball and was throwing it up towards the ceiling and letting it fall back into his hand. There was a knock at the door. Michael leaned up just enough to see Lincoln slip through the door, and shut it behind him.

"Are you okay?"

Silence was his reply. Lincoln came around until he towered over Michael. "What happened?"

Michael leaned up on his side. He continued to cradle the tennis ball in his hand. "I told you, nothing."

Lincoln sat down on the bed. "Pressure getting to you?" Michael was staring at some imaginary object near the wall. "Yeah. Me too. I think we're all getting restless. I just want to see LJ. Make sure he's okay. And Veronica. I miss her like crazy. I wish I could bring her out here, you know. We could enjoy freedom together." Lincoln was facing the wall, no longer talking to Michael. "I love her. I really do. When she whispered it to me before I had to face that chair all I could think was that I'd never spent my life loving her—my biggest regret. And I just want that…"

"Shut up. Just shut up, Linc," Michael had bolted from the bed and was up against the wall, his back to Lincoln. His breathing was heavy—he was trying so hard to keep himself in check. "You'll get her. Don't you see? You love her. She loves you. You will have her."

"Michael…I…"

"You will have a happy ever after ending. Keep it to yourself. Not all of us are so lucky."

"Dr. Tancredi is on your mind."

Michael let out one long breath, his eyes coming to meet his brother's. He didn't know quite what to say. He shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah. I guess…"

"Or is it Aly?"

At the sound of her name, Michael's eyes slowly closed until they were a glare. Lincoln held Michael's steady gaze, until Michael softened and let his body relax against the wall. "They're both very different, Michael."

"I know."

"One's a fighter on the outside. The other is a fighter on the inside."

"Yeah."

"Where is Aly?" Lincoln looked around and then went to the door. "I haven't seen her in like an hour or so. She's really good at that disappearing act."

Michael continued to lean against the wall. "Yeah…I know…"

-----------------------

"Okay we're here. Get your bag and get out."

"Or what?"

Aly was already halfway out of the car. She didn't really want to continue this game. It was not very enjoyable. She sat back down at her seat and slowly turned to Sara. "Get out of the damn car, Dr. Tancredi. NOW!" Each word carried an emphasis all its' own, and Sara must have picked up on it because she immediately stepped out the door. Aly smiled to herself before getting out of the car.

They walked side by side. Aly almost wished that her hair still was the blond color as it would have highlighted the differences between them. While Sara was tall, and lanky—there couldn't be fat on her body, Aly was fuller in that she carried more muscle—evidence of time having spent in a gym.

Arriving at the front door, she leaned against the wood to listen in. It was quiet. They were either not home or had all crashed already. Slipping the key into the door, she opened up and let herself in, with Sara following.

"Hello? Scotty? Amiguito? Is anyone around?"

"Where are we?"

But Aly wasn't paying attention to Sara. She was slowly walking through the apartment, trying to discover something that wasn't right. She was over in the corner of the large living room, about to check the balcony, when a door opened down the hallway. Looking up, she saw Sara's gaze soften.

"Michael?" Sara's voice was a whisper. The wall blocked her view of the hallway, but in seconds she heard the reply.

"Sara?"

Michael came closer and stood a few feet from Sara, just staring at her. Aly nodded quietly to herself, and slipped out of the sliding door to the balcony. She shut the door, and looked over the edge. She was only on the second story of the apartment building. It would be an easy jump down onto the small lawn in front of the complex.

Her decision was made as she swung one leg over the ledge. A hand came and grabbed her, pulling her back to towards the apartment. She looked up and found Lincoln staring at her.

"What do you want, Linc?"

"Where are you going?"

The light from the apartment slid across his face, but concealed her expression—for which she was grateful. "I've got work to do. If you want to see LJ and Veronica again, you need to let me go."

"How do you know everything about us?"

"I do my homework."

"Aly…"

His voice was so tender—she wanted to cry in his arms. But she held her ground. "Lincoln. I don't want you to stay in hell. I told you that when we first met. I want to help you out. Let me go."

His hand rubbed up and down her arm, as he slowly nodded. Then he held up a backpack. She took it from him and looked inside. Her laptop, papers—all of her research was there, along with some snacks and a change of clothing. She gave a laugh. "I guess I'm not the only one who knows everything…" Going on her tiptoes, she kissed Lincoln's cheek. When she stepped back, she snapped her fingers and then dug into her pocket, giving a paper to Lincoln. "If you call this number, and then dial Veronica's—they can't put a trace, and it will scramble what you say. Put in a recording. Bring her out here. She's only getting herself deeper into trouble."

Then with a turn, she slipped over the side of the building and down onto the grass. She gave Lincoln a last two finger salute, and then ran into the darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's note: I do apologize for the long wait. I know that I usually update once a week. Last weekend was crazy. Plus, I was getting a bit of writer's block. I also want to clarify my last author's note if it sounded a bit harsh. You'll have to forgive me. I was a little frustrated by some comments that were made, it was a late night and I was just not in the mood. So, I apologize for offending anyone. Third thing--I'm really tossing around the two ending ideas. The one where he ends up with Sara would obviously be posted here, but the other one, I will most likely do on my website. But I'll let you know how things progress. Hope you enjoy this one!

**Chapter Twelve**

They stood, facing each other. It seemed that they were always trying to do that. Never could they actually see one another, or understand one another. But at this moment—all masks were stripped away. Michael was so close to her, he could almost smell her conditioner that she used this morning. But he couldn't bring himself to go those last few steps. She had to do it.

"What are you doing here, Sara?"

"I wasn't planning on being here."

"Aly…" he muttered under his breath. Oh—she was going to have a talking to. She always had to stick her nose into someone else's business. "You must be tired. It was a long flight, no?"

"You've made it recently?"

A smile crept across his face. She was joking with him—a good sign. "Only a few days ago. But I've had time to recover." He gestured to the couch. "You wanna sit down."

The grin that had been on Sara's face previously slowly stripped away. Michael noticed that she grew tense. "I don't…I just…"

He reached out and took her hand into his. That old electricity went off at the slightest touch. It had been far too long and it felt like all of the old fears were dissipating. He guided her around the couch, and sat down at the far end of the couch. She took her time sitting down, her eyes darting back and forth across the apartment. "This is a nice place. Who's is it?"

"Scott. Aly's friend."

"Oh."

"He's an investigative reporter—trying to get his masters in journalism."

"Oh."

"Sara?"

His voice had changed. It was that same breathless whisper that he had after he had kissed her. Those same emotions were coming to him again—that memory flooding his mind. And all he wanted was to kiss her again. He started to move across the couch. Sara didn't back up at all. She didn't move at all. Just before he could reach his hand up to brush through her hair, she replied, "She lied to me."

"Huh?"

"Your friend? Girlfriend? Whoever she is… She lied to me. To get me here."

"I'll have to thank her."

Sara glanced up at him. "You mean you didn't know?"

Michael searched her face—she wore a complete look of surprise—a mirror of his astonishment. "No…" Taking a deep breath, and he began again. "I just figured that after what happened… It was better that way…"

"I don't think so…"

"You don't?"

"We would've found each other eventually, Michael," Sara hesitated, but then put out her hand to rest on top of Michael's. He just stared at her hand—fitting so perfectly on top of his. "We're opposite ends of the magnet. Always attracted."

He watched her very closely. A light blush was across her cheeks. She began to withdraw her hand, but Michael grabbed it, and held it, studying it for a minute. Then he pulled her closer to him.

-------------------------

The spring air was surprisingly cool as she walked towards the station. She didn't want to find a taxi and spend the little money she had when she had two perfectly decent feet to that could be used. The night was quiet, with only a few cars passing on the streets. Once arriving at the tram station, she looked around for a ticket window or a machine to buy her ticket. Aly located one and immediately went over and began punching in her request. She needed to go north about 30 minutes, to the airport. From there—the journey only began.

As she was punching away at the machine, requesting her ticket, a hand came out and pulled on her shoulder. Calmly, she turned around to face the owner.

"Hello, Angel. Now, where do you think YOU would be going?"

"How did the Creepy Crew get out of jail for free?"

T-Bag pulled his arms across his chest. He gestured around the corner, where Abruzzi stepped out of the shadows. "Oh great," she muttered, pushing them both against the building. "Look. You better get out of here. Pronto. Understand?"

Abruzzi quickly grabbed her arm and twisted it away from her body. "But why would we leave the little answer box? You seem to know everything."

"Okay. Ow. This hurts," she muttered, throwing her full body weight against his hand, she was able to spin out of his hold, knocking him against the building. She flicked out a knife and held it up to his eyes. "I am not afraid to use it. You don't want to mess with me. You don't know how I know all about you."

When an arm came around her waist, her mistake was realized. T-Bag grabbed the knife and turned it on her. "You get us where we want to go, and we won't have hard feelings, Angel."

Aly nodded her head. T-Bag released her, but not without letting his hand trail along her body. She went to grab back her knife, but he held it out of her reach. "Ah ah! Angels don't go running around with such weapons."

Going back to the booth, she punched for another two tickets. After the machine gave them to her, she returned to Abruzzi and T-Bag. "Okay. Listen. I'm going to L.A. But you've got to listen. Once there, you need to get lost. Go wherever you are planning on going. I'll give you all the information that I have. But honestly—I don't ever want to hear from you again." Passing their tickets to them, she gave them an extra glare.

"And where are you going, Angel?"

"Washington, D.C. I think Madam Vice President needs to have a little chat."

---------------------------

It had been a long flight. And Sara was comfortable resting along the couch. She was sprawled out, her coat had been left with her bags in the corner, her shoes were lying neatly next to the couch. Michael stroked her hair over and over, letting his hands run through the auburn lengths. They were like sun rays, so golden in their reddish hue. One hand was resting against his chest, and he loved the feeling that she was giving him. If only he could have this feeling ALWAYS. Forever. If every day he could wake up to this feeling and go to sleep with it.

"Where is she?"

Michael lifted his gaze to the hallway. Scott was standing there, his back to Michael. It was Lincoln's voice that replied.

"She's gone."

"I know that. I'm asking WHERE she went."

"I don't know. She just said she had things to do."

"Damnit, Aly. She lives this damn piece of paper—and THAT'S all."

"Let me see it." He heard a paper wrestled away. "Scotty. Hey man. Thanks for the help. I seriously owe you. Listen. Things are pretty big. I've got things to do—capital to find. Here's all the info that you'll need to publish. If you don't hear from me in a week—use me as a source. I have my ways of backing up what you say (besides these original items)—even if… Well, thanks Scotty. I hope this one gets you a Pulitzer or something." Lincoln sighed. "What does all of that mean?"

"Come here."

Their voices grew fainter. Michael shifted so that he could lay Sara gently back against the pillow he had been using to support his back, then he strolled down the hallway to the back room, which Scott used as an office. Sucre, Linc and Scott were all leaning over the desk, staring intently at something. Michael cleared his throat.

"Hey."

Lincoln's first reaction had been to stiffen, but at the recognition of his brother, he slowly relaxed. "Aly's gone. And Scotty here seems to think she's up to something."

"Oh no. I don't think. I know. And what she's in for is bad news, let me tell you."

"You understand this note?" Sucre asked, pulling the piece of paper up closer to his face.

"Oh yeah. She always left these kinds of notes for me after finding out information for me to use in my articles. Usually that meant that she had discovered even more information that she needed to take care of and that she would give me the info later. Or that she was embarking on a…" Scott grabbed the piece of paper, and read it over. "Oh damnit. Aly!" He shoved down the piece of paper, and shoved past Michael, only to disappear in his bedroom.

Glancing from Linc to Sucre, both of them carrying a puzzled face, Michael followed Scott. He already had a bag out and was throwing some clothes in it. "What happened?"

"She's going after the vice-president…or should I say the President? I bet she hasn't even read the freaking newspaper yet. Damn that girl. What is she possibly thinking. No wonder she gave herself a deadline. A week."

"Do you know what her plan is?"

"Hell if she ever tells me anything. I hate it when she does things like this—just like when we were…" Scott glanced up at Michael, his brown eyes darkening for a second then he returned to packing. "She just has to find the most dangerous damn adventure that she can."

Michael nodded slowly then moved into the room, leaning against the wall. "Why?"

"Damn it! You haven't figured it out? You're supposed to be this damn genius, and you can't even figure out a woman?" Scott tossed another shirt into his bag, and zipped it up. He tossed it over his shoulder and took another good look at Michael. "She's in love with you. But she won't ever have you. She's been in love with you since she was sixteen. And since nothing will EVER happen, she's going on the most dangerous mission of her own device—to save the one man she ever loved, while he sits here with another woman." He sighed. "Damn. I hate soap operas. Tune in next week to find out what happens next." He started to shove past Michael, his shoulder slamming against Michael's chest sending him back against the wall.

"Do you know how to find her?"

"Of course…" Scott was checking his pockets for his cell phone. But then, his head shot up. "_Why?_ Are you coming with me?"


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks to all of those who have read and reviewed. There is definitely more to come--a few more twists and a few more obstacles until the end. I apologize for not updating sooner. The last few weeks have been terribly busy, and I'll admit that I lost some glammer. But have no fear, I'm back and we'll see where this story continues to take us! Thanks again for being AMAZING loyal readers!--killercove

**Chapter Thirteen**

The train was slowing. It was taking a good long while to stop at the station, but as soon as she felt the train lessening its speed, and the conductor to say over the intercom where they were stopping, she knew it was time to get ready to get off. Aly had only caught what felt like five minutes of sleep. But that was enough for now.

Stepping over the feet of Abruzzi and T-Bag, she was so sure that she would be able to get away, but at the last second, a hand latched onto her wrist, and pulled her back into his lap. T-Bag smiled up at her as he wrapped one arm around her waist.

"Angel. When are you eva gonna learn?"

Rolling her eyes, she tried to push away, but his grip on her seemed to tighten to an almost inhuman strength. "Now now. Let's not be hasty. You need to play nice."

Abruzzi and T-Bag both got up and took post on either side of her. T-Bag slipped his arm around her waist, which Aly immediately began protesting to. But he just slid right behind her, letting the other arm go around her other side. "We wouldn't want to draw attention to ourselves."

"And public displays of affection aren't going to do that?" She replied disgustingly as they started their walk out onto the platform. "Look. I really have to catch a flight. Why don't we go to that little corner over there," she gestured across the empty train station to a little corner with some seats and a couple of sleeping bums. "And we can discuss what we need to and I can be on my way, and you can be on yours."

Abruzzi and T-Bag seemed to approve of that move, because they redirected their course in that direction. Once tucked in a neat little corner, Aly pulled her backpack off, and began digging through the mess of papers, before pulling out a folder, and flipping through until she found two pieces of paper.

"I don't want to do this, but obviously, you're giving me very little choice." She gave each of them a paper. "Now, I'm leaving. I've done my duty to your society." But as she took one step away from them, an arm reeled her back in. Abruzzi towered over her—his chest was proudly displayed, as he took one hand and rubbed his at the growth on his chin.

"How do we know that this is real?"

Rolling her eyes, Aly crossed her arms across her chest. "You're just going to have to go with me on this. I got you out of the States, and back INTO the States, all while keeping the cops away from you. You have no reason to believe that I would give you anything OTHER than the real information. Especially when my freedom to do as I need to is in the balance."

They both stared at one another, and Aly allowed herself to take a few steps away from them. She didn't wait for their permission to turn on her heels and leave. She headed straight for the street and began looking around for a taxi or a shuttle. Neither appeared, but then a black car pulled up in front of her. The windows were tinted black. She started to shift away, but once again she felt that bony arm around her waist and that disgusting voice next to her ear.

"Come on, Angel. We're going for a little ride." T-Bag pulled her to the car, where Abruzzi had opened the back door, and pushed her inside. Scrambling across the seat, she tried to open the other door, but it wouldn't open.

"Nice try. But it ain't gonna work," Abruzzi smirked, as he pulled himself into the car and shut the door. The driver immediately started off. Aly slid right next to the door, but T-Bag slid right up next to her.

"Never thought I could get you into the back seat of a car, did ya, Angel?"

"Oh gross. Puke me." She sighed. "Okay. Really. I've got work to do. And I can do it when you're kidnapping me. I gave you all the information you need. What more could you want?"

Abruzzi looked from T-Bag to the driver's rearview mirror, and then one look at her accompanied by a smirk, made Aly sit back down. All she knew was that she had an airplane to catch.

----------------------

"Well…?" Scott was standing by the door with his bag. He rolled his eyes. But Michael stood there, thinking over everything. She had a few hours head start of them. She probably already had gotten a flight.

"I have no identification. How could I ever get somewhere? Maybe it's better that I stay." His gaze turned back to Sara's sleeping form on the couch. Yes. He could stay. Stay with Sara.

"I'll go." Michael glanced up to see Lincoln standing with his hands in his pockets.

"Cuenta conmigo," (_Count me in_) Sucre replied, as he moved around the room towards Scott.

Michael just stood there, even as Scott was nodding and gesturing them to follow. Digging into his pocket, Scott threw something towards Michael. "It's my keys. Take care of my place. I'll be back soon."

Michael stared at the keys. Lincoln and Sucre had already joined Scott at the door. "We'll be in touch," Scott replied as he disappeared out into the hallway and down the stairs. Sucre followed with an 'adios'. Lincoln paused with the door open. He looked again at Sara.

"Linc?"

"She needs us. I know that Dad is working on it too. I'm scared for Aly. This is much bigger than she thinks."

"I know. That's why I should be the one…"

"You've got other responsibilities now, Michael. You did your part—the getting us out of prison. Now, it's unknown territory. Let the criminals do their job."

Without another word, Lincoln closed the door behind him, leaving Michael and Sara alone in the apartment. He stood there for a few minutes, taking in everything that had happened. Somehow, he knew he needed to help. And he knew just who to call.

-------------------

When she saw the airport come into view, she knew they were in trouble. There was no way they could get past security. But then, when the black car turned off to the private hanger, she knew that security was the last thing they would have to worry about. After all, Abruzzi was a member of the mob. He could get whatever he needed—including an airplane.

"This stopped being funny about twenty minutes ago. I really have a plane to catch."

"We all do, Miss Hart," Abruzzi replied absently.

Aly struggled against T-Bag's arm that was wrapped around her shoulders. "I'm serious. I need to go and clear Linc's name so that he can wander around a free man. And you're keeping me from my job."

He seemed irritated, and it was obvious when he pulled out a switchblade and held it in front of her eyes. "Miss Hart. This is my friend. I don't think you two have met." His voice grew deeper, his look more intense. "Don't make me use it."

She breathed in deeply, and pulled her backpack straps tighter, as the car came to a slow stop in front of a small plane. Abruzzi looked out the front of the car, and smiled. Aly used this moment to kick away the knife and push away from T-Bag. She crawled over them in the car, while Abruzzi scrambled to find the knife. When she reached the door, her ankle was pulled back, causing her whole body to stop from bolting out of the car. Looking down her leg, she noticed T-Bag's hands pulling her farther in.

Her left foot connected with his face, a string of profanity escaped his lips as she finished crawling out of the car. Abruzzi was close on her tail, as he had found the knife. But Aly had started back across the parking lot towards a security post. She banged on the little hut door. But a security guard didn't come out. Jiggling the handle, the door opened easily. But her heart gave a lurch. The security guard's eyes were open, his jaw opened, but the bullet wound protruding from his chest made it very clear that he was no longer enjoying this world. As Aly turned, a gun came into view. She looked up.

"Hello, Agent Hart."

"Kellerman."

"You are very easy to track, Hart. Especially when you make reservations under one of your aliases. And when you're in league with a mobster."

Aly glanced around, taking in the whole scene before her. Abruzzi and T-Bag were still across the parking lot, but when they saw someone else with a gun pointed to her, they stopped. Aly held her ground. "Well, aren't you a smart one? Congratulations. But it doesn't matter now."

"Oh, but it does. Because I get to kill you."

Eyeing him, her lips broke into a smile. "Oh, Paul. Really. Let's be serious. You won't kill me. Because you know that I would have covered my bases." She took a step closer, the gun still separating them. "I did learn from the best." She took her hand and pushed the gun down and away from her, stepping again closer to Kellerman. It took so much for her to not grimace in their closeness.

He took one of his hands and grabbed her right wrist and twisted it behind her back. Her body slammed against his as she fought to free her wrist with the other one, only being able to feel behind her. He smiled down at her. "Oh, Hart. I knew that you would cover your bases." He lifted his free hand with the gun in it and pointed it across the parking lot. "And that's why you're going to come with me. We have some business to take care of."

She stepped on his foot, and swung her arm around until she connected with his face. He let go of her, and she immediately began to make a fast break away. Within a few feet, she felt an indescribable pain in her right leg, and immediately lost ability to run farther. She didn't feel good. She fell, Kellerman reaching her quickly. He lifted her up until she was staring at him in the face.

"There's a plane waiting to take you to Washington D.C., Agent. It seems we have a new assignment waiting for you."

Aly spit in his face, but he swung the butt of his gun around and gave her a good sharp whack. Her head was spinning for a moment, but once she refocused, she was already being stuffed into his car. Kellerman tossed her backpack right in after her then leaned down close. "Don't even think about getting out of this one, Alexia. I cover my bases too."

And the door slammed.


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry this is coming so late. I have been busy like crazy. But I hope you enjoy it. We're starting to really get to the meat of the story. Yeah

**Chapter Fourteen**

Things were looking…

Well…

Not good.

After doing a bit of fighting to break a window or something to allow an escape, Kellerman had resorted to handcuffing one wrist to the handle that was just in above the door to the passenger's side, and the other to the shifter. With every shift into a new gear, her arm was yanked in that direction. Aly was tired of this after five minutes.

Ten minutes later they were out on the runway, getting into a private jet. He had taken the handcuffs, and handcuffed her wrists behind her, and used some larger ones for her ankles, then carried her up and into the plane. He sat her down, and then took the seat across from her.

An hour later, she didn't even know where they were anymore. There was no way to tell from the geography, except she knew they were heading east—she hadn't seen any water. And they had been traveling for a good couple of hours. Her guess—Colorado. Perhaps even Nebraska.

Aly struggled against the metal handcuffs. She twisted in her seat, trying to get a comfortable position, and maybe sleep. Kellerman wasn't going to kill her. At least not yet.

Kellerman looked over at her, and grinned. Aly felt bile rushing up to her mouth, as he reached a hand out to her, brushing some of her hair. "I wouldn't pick you for a brunette, Hart." He leaned closer, taking his eyes away from the road for just a second. "But it suits you. Brings out those baby blues that you like to hide."

She jerked towards him, but was nearly stumbled out of her chair. She regained her balance and shifted back into her seat. Paul, also, slid back into his seat. "Oh, Alexia. You really do know how to get yourself into quite the predicament."

"It doesn't matter what happens to me. Soon the whole world will know of your corruption. Of what you did. This goes WAY beyond Nixon. The company will be torn apart and you…you will go to jail with that conniving slimy woman you call the Vice—"

His hand came out and slapped her right across the face. Aly licked her lips, tasting her own blood. Slowly, her gaze locked on his. "Don't you EVER call her anything but Ms. President. That's an order, Hart!"

"You're no longer in a position of authority, you bastard," she spat back, leaning her head down closer to the shifter to use her left hand to wipe away some of the blood. He gave her a good hard whack again. Her eyes rolled back into her head, as she went limp against her legs. Kellerman used his right hand to gently push her back into the chair.

"Just wait until I'm done with you, Aly…"

--------------------

The line was ringing. He was pacing in the kitchen. Sara moaned and rolled onto her back on the couch. He glanced over at her, catching her eye. He smiled, but before he could say anything, he heard the voice on the line.

"Hello?"

"V?"

"Michael. Where are you? I've heard some crazy stuff…"

"We're safe. Where are you?"

"I found him."

"Who?" Michael stared at the phone, but the name that fell from Veronica's lips were the last ones he would expect.

"Terrance Steadman."

His breath caught in his throat. Victory was so close. He could FEEL it. It took him a second to come back to reality.

"You found him."

"I sure did. He's alive as alive can be. And guess what—he had his teeth pulled out—the only way they could identify him."

His mind started going—like a car that hadn't been used in awhile and was trying to prove its' worth as quickly as possible. "V? We've got a problem."

"What? We just bring in Steadman and Linc's clear."

"It's not that simple. He's gone after…" He didn't know if he should say it. "After Aly. The cop."

"The cop?"

"Well, actually she's an FBI agent. Disguised as a cop. It's kind of a long story."

"I've got time," Veronica replied.

-----------------------

They were taking his car—a slick Mazda 626 LX that he had gotten out of college. Graduation present from the parents. How grateful he was for it. It was probably the only way to get across country without Lincoln or Sucre being noticed. Their faces were plastered everywhere.

Lincoln was driving, and doing a pretty good job of staying at least somewhat near the speed limit. Scott was pleased. He turned back to reviewing all of the paperwork she had left him. It was very impressive work, some of her best. But it didn't settle the wash of fear for her that he felt. She was too good of an agent for her own good.

As he was milling over these thoughts, his cell phone began to buzz on vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the caller id. _ID blocked._ He answered it, hoping to hear her voice or something.

It was a voice of a man.

"Is this Scott?"

"Yes… Who is this?"

"Abruzzi. We've got a situation."

Scott's breath was held for a second. "If you have done ANYTHING to her—I swear to God. I'm going to find you. And I'm going to make your life miserable…"

"Shut up, kid," Abruzzi replied gruffly. "I didn't do nothing. An FBI agent got to her."

"Oh no."

"Yeah. She sure got us into some sh…"

"Who was it?"

"I don't know but he slapped her up pretty good. Killed the security cop at the airport. Took her in his car."

Scott tossed the papers aside. "And you have no idea where he's taking her?"

"None. He just stuffed her and her backpack into the car, and took off."

"Where are you?"

"Flying away."

Scott groaned. "How did you get my cell phone number?"

"Honestly, kid. You don't know anything about the mob, do you? You can learn anything you want."

"Yeah. Well…what's your plan?"

"Plan?"

"Don't you have a plan?" Scott pulled the phone away and stared at it.

"No, no. That's not my department. That's the fish's."

"Damn it. I'm hours away from San Diego. There's no damn way I can get back and find that guy."

"Well… Good luck," Abruzzi replied coldly.

"No!" But the line disconnected. Scott muttered a few choice words under his breath. "This is not what I planned on." He continued to mutter some words that included "Damn Aly" while he dialed away. The line began ringing.

------------------

"V? Could you hang on a second? There's another call coming through."

"Sure," she replied, before Michael clicked over to the other line. It was good to hear Veronica's voice again and start working through a plan. Between the two of them, they could pull off anything.

"Michael?"

"Who is this?" Michael stared at the phone. The reception was not very good.

"It's Scott. We're in some trouble."

"Already?"

"No. I mean, Aly is in some serious trouble. She's been caught. By a FBI agent. She's been compromised."

"And what do you want…?"

Scott sighed, as if annoyed with Michael. Michael was struck by how strongly Scott felt about Aly, and then in a second, that amazement turned to something else. But he pushed aside analyzing it for a second, to turn back to the conversation.

"I need a plan. To get her back."

Nodding slowly to the receiver, Michael closed his eyes, his mind trying to formulate a plan. And then, it hit him.

"I need to talk to Linc."


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you to all who have read and reviewed. I really appreciate the feedback as this is my first fan fiction that I've posted. For those who have been waiting around for some Sara and Michael--congratulations, you've made it to a little moment! I know it won't be much, but give me some time. I want to make it good. Thank you all!

**Chapter Fifteen**

"I need to talk to Linc."

Scott rolled his eyes. Aly was in trouble, and this guy wanted to talk to his brother? It didn't fly with Scott. Probably didn't help that this was the competition he had always faced since he met Aly. The God—Michael Scofield. His name even brought a certain PANG to Scott's heart.

But he realized that he was wasting time—time that they did not have.

He tapped Lincoln's shoulder. "Your brother wants to talk to you."

Lincoln took the phone with his left hand and held it to his ear, using his right hand to steer the car at a constant 100 miles per hour.

"Michael?"

Scott returned to the papers, but his ear was tuned into Lincoln's half of the conversation. He tried to listen in close enough to hear what Michael was saying, but the volume was on low.

He was still filing through the papers, but not really paying attention to the words that were on the page. It was her handwriting that was getting to him—the little notes she made in the margins like "You'll appreciate this source, Scotty" and others like it. When he finally hit the last page, he took a deep breath as her read her personal note.

_Scotty. I've never been scared. You know that? And I'm not scared now. What I do is protect the innocent and make this country safe to live in. That's what I'm doing. I'm going to save this nation from being ignorant to what is really going on. The American people have a right to know. Win me a Pulitzer. I'll be watching._

Reading her words made something in him snap. He grabbed his phone back from Lincoln. "Look. I don't know what your plan is—but whatever it is—she better be alive and well when we find her—and the sooner the better!" He snapped his phone closed, and tossed it against the seat next to him.

Lincoln was staring at him with the rearview mirror, glancing every few minutes to watch the road in front of him. When Scott finally noticed, he brushed some of the brown hair in his face away. "What?"

But it was Sucre who answered, "Hombre…."

---------------

Michael stared at the phone with the dead line. The strain that had been in Scott's voice was so familiar. He was worried. Michael remembered hearing that same strain as he had been in Fox River, trying to get Linc out before his execution.

"Michael?"

He was leaning over the counter, but slowly looked up. Sara was standing next to the couch, studying him very carefully. She lifted a hand to her forehead and pushed back a piece of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. His look was intense, but she matched it with one of her own. She moved through the furniture until she was leaning against the counter across from him. She slipped a hand through one of his—that strange tingling sensation returned.

"You okay?"

"Yeah…" He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. It was taking everything in him to keep him in control. Too many things were running through his head… and his heart.

When he finally opened his eyes, Sara was studying him very carefully. He clicked back to Veronica and lifted the phone again to his ear. "Veronica? We'll see you in a few." Turning the phone off, he again leaned over the counter. He quietly looked up at her then gently reached out to Sara's cheek, barely touching the soft skin with his fingertips. She leaned into that touch. "Sara…" He said gently.

"I know…"

He stopped quickly, and stared at her. "You do?"

"Yeah. I know it was all to save your brother. But that doesn't stop whatever's going on between us. I feel it still. I can't get away from it." Sara took a deep breath as she stepped closer. "From you."

He pulled away quickly from her. "Oh. That. Sara." Michael glanced up at her quickly. "Sara. Yes. I feel it. But…no. That's not what I was going to say."

Sara stood up. She was watching him carefully. He ran a hand over his head where his hair was starting to grow back. "I… uh… need to get back East. I need to go to Chicago."

Her mouth dropped slightly. "But if you go back there. You'll be caught. They'll take you away. And torture you until you say where everyone else is."

Michael had moved around the counter and was now in front of her. He lifted a hand to again touch her cheek, only this time there was nothing from separating him from her. She moved closer, resting her forehead against his. "I know. It's a risk I'm going to have to take to save someone that I love."

----------------------

"You're doing WHAT?" Scott had shifted to the middle seat and was blinking his eyes in an effort to perhaps see more clearly. But that still wasn't helping.

"We have to get in touch with my father, Scott. It's the only way to save Aly. She's probably _in_ D.C. by now, if she has been captured by Kellerman."

Scott took a hand and rubbed his face. "Okay. Let's say that we get in touch with your dad. What can he do that no one else can do? How are we going to get her back? This isn't something small anymore, Linc. This is big. This is going against the leader of the nation that reigns in the free world. If we don't get her on the first try—" Scott took in a deep breath. "—I don't think we get a second shot. The less people we bring in, the better. Unless they can REALLY help us."

Linc slammed on the brakes and pulled off in the shoulder. Then he turned around and grabbed Scott by the collar and pulled him close. "Now you listen, goddamnit. We will get her back. She will be safe. And we're going to need a LOT of help. And that help is my father. He knows more about the Company than Aly probably has dug up. Now you're going to sit back there and say only pleasant things, or make a decent cd appear, or else I'm going to make sure that I really do go on Death Row for a murder."

"Crystal clear," Scott coughed out. Lincoln let go of him, and returned to driving them east. Scott continued to try and clear his throat. Finally, he leaned forward and glanced at Sucre before giving a little smile. "So was this Michael's suggestion?"

Lincoln gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "No. It was mine. Michael is going to Chicago to get some legal help and then meet us in D.C."

"From a Veronica Donovan, isn't it?"

Taking his eyes off the road for one minute, Linc looked over at Scott. He held a folder with papers. "She's in the notes," he smiled. Lincoln returned to watching the road. "She's pretty. Nice blue eyes."

"They're green. Aly's are blue."

Scott paused and glared at Lincoln. Linc met the glare with just a short look. "Right. Well, I guess we better step on it. We have a lot of people we're going to have to meet in D.C. Don't want to make them wait."

--------------------

Aly moaned. It took her a minute to regain her vision. As she opened her eyes and began taking in her surroundings, she immediately noticed that she was vertical, but definitely not touching the floor. She was in a small room, hanging by her arms that were tightly handcuffed to two rings in a wall. She kicked a little and banged against the stone wall behind her back.

After a few minutes without any success, she relaxed and took a few deep breaths. She began to assess the situation—although there was really little to assess. She was a good two feet off the ground and the steel was hardly giving way. It was then that she heard the lock click and the metal door start to open.

"How's it hanging, Hart?"

She rolled her eyes. It was a horrible joke and it deserved an eye roll. Kellerman stepped closer and grabbed one of her dangling feet. "How do you feel?"

"Oh. Just admiring the view." She turned her head just slightly. "Wishing that window was just a little closer cause then at least I could GET AWAY!" She gave a slight kick to get him away from her leg, but he held her ankle firmly.

"Do you want to get down?"

"Aww. Really? I'm actually enjoying myself up here."

Kellerman rolled his eyes, and pulled a key from his pocket. He went about 4 feet to the far corner of the room to grab a small ladder. He climbed the two steps and unlocked one wrist. Aly hadn't felt so much relief in that one wrist, but her other was screamed in pain at having to hold her full body weight. Taking his time to move to the other wrist, he allowed that one to go free as well. She slammed against the cold concrete floor.

"So, is this how you treat all of your dates? Or am I just one lucky girl?" Aly grimaced as she pushed herself up. Kellerman had stepped down from the ladder and was closing it up and putting it against a wall.

"You can cut with the trash talking, Alexia. It won't get you anywhere. Now, you need to tell me where they are."

"Or else you're putting me back up there? I don't really care, Paul."

He slapped her across the face. "No. It will be a lot worse than that hit, Alexia. And your brother. Just tell me where they are."

She tasted blood in her mouth. She brushed back her hair away from her face. "You're going to kill innocent bystanders, Paul. And for what? To get someone who has disappeared because he wouldn't be paid off anymore. Oh yeah—sounds REALLY good for this country." She took a step closer to him. "This isn't a joke, Paul. You can't break me. You taught me how to not break. Whatever happens is already in motion. And getting rid of me means nothing. I'm no longer an asset."

Kellerman studied her carefully and then gave a laugh. "You little…" He grabbed her by her hair and brought her close to his face. "You were just a ploy, weren't you? You were trying to keep us busy while they went on and finished YOUR job."

She was breathing heavily. "Yeah. Brilliant, huh? Sacrifice myself. Because I would do that—for MY country. For MY friends. For THEIR freedom," she spat out at him.

Kellerman pulled her back a little and studied her dirty face. Fire was gleaming from those blue eyes, a flame so deep that he couldn't see the end of it. Her face grew redder with his constant gaze, her freckles that were normally so prominent were now beginning to fade away. He took his free hand and lifted it to her face, while keeping the other with a good grip on her hair. She grimaced under his touch, and when he took note of it, he tossed her into the corner.

"I'm not through with you yet, Hart. Believe me when I say you're not going to like what happens next."

Aly lifted her head from the ground, to see the door slightly ajar, Kellerman standing there watching her. He smirked but then his face suddenly lost all expression. He tipped forward, back into the room.

"You really won't like it," the man who appeared in the door replied.


	16. Chapter 16

Wasn't the season premiere amazing? I liked it. A lot. Thanks to everyone who's been patient with me in waiting for these chapters. I'm going to try and start getting myself on a schedule, since my life is a little less hectic. Also, we are going to see someone in this chapter—and we don't know his name. Or at least, I don't and I checked EVERY source I could. So, I'm making one up. Forgive me, alright? Just go with it.

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Oh, boy."

"Man. Actually."

Aly looked up from staring at Kellerman's body that was sprawled over the concrete floor. "Yeah… Wow. You have great timing."

His face turned to a smile. "Thanks, kid. You ready?"

Standing up, she towered over the body. She took her hand and rubbed it over her face, pulling it away to find blood. She grimaced then returned her hand to try and find the source of the bleeding. "Yeah. I'm ready, Warren."

He nodded, and looked away for a moment. "Alexia. There's something I have to tell you. My name isn't John Warren."

Her eyes darted about the room, and landed on Kellerman to make sure he was still out. His body didn't move. Then she turned back to the gray haired man.

"Oh. So, what is it?"

"Burrows. Robert Burrows."

--------------------------------

A piece of hair had fallen down. With a few fingers, he gently brushed them back from her face, before she even had a second to notice. She was in the middle of tying a bow on her shoes, but one touch from him made her forget how to do it, and the laces fell.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You just got yourself out of trouble," Michael chuckled as he kept one hand in her hair, brushing it back from her face.

Sara smiled, and blushed lightly. Her gaze met his, but she shrugged. "Where would I go?"

"Chicago. You'd just go back like nothing ever happened. And I would go and do what I need to do."

She nodded slowly. "For once, I want to do what's right, Michael. I've lived my life as the governor's daughter now—doing what was expected of me; or doing the complete opposite. It's time to expect something of myself—something good." She gave another smile, and grabbed her purse. "You called a taxi, right?"

"Yes. He should be here any minute." Michael stood up then helped her to her feet. He kept a gentle hold on both her hands. "You're going to be fine?"

"Yeah. I am. I'll call if I get lost or something happens." She slipped a hand out of his when she heard the apartment buzzer go off signaling the arrival of someone down in the lobby.

"Be careful. But hurry. We've got a long way to go."

Sara studied him for a minute. He took those same few seconds to study her.

Then she turned and walked out the door.

--------------------------------

(End Day 1 of traveling; 1 week since break out)

"_Mi amor..."_

"Shut up, man." Scott took the notebook in his head and whacked Sucre in the head. With a murmur, Sucre rolled over in the chair, and shortly began breathing deeply again. Scott leaned back in the back seat, his knees touching the backs of the seats in front of him as he slouched down. "I don't know how much more I can take of his lovesickness. Can't we leave him by the road somewhere? He can go look for his little muchacha on his own?"

Lincoln didn't say anything. Three people crowded his thoughts. He had to get to each of them, and fast. But one was more important than the others at this moment. And he was going to do his best.

"What was your brother like when he was younger?"

"Huh?" Lincoln didn't even bother to look in his rearview mirror. After a full day of driving, the sun was beginning to set behind him. He took a hand away from the wheel and rubbed at his face. "Scott. I…um…I'm starting to get a little tired. Do you want to take over for a little bit, while I get some rest?"

Scott darted around nervously. Although it was dusk, people would still be able to recognize Linc, if given the chance. But they were on the highway—no one would be going slowly enough to notice.

"Yeah. Just pull over when you find…"

Linc shot over to the shoulder of the road and when he was stopped, put the car into idle. He stepped out of the driver's seat and he and Scott switched seats.

Stretching across the length of the car was impossible, but it still felt good to let his leg have a rest from pushing the accelerator. He curled low to the seat, wedging his head somewhere between the seat and the door. As he curled low, his eyes caught sight of some papers on the ground. Curiosity got the best of Lincoln. He took them, and sat up and began to sift through them.

Her notes were clear. A child could have understood what had been written. All of these things pointed to one company taking control over the government to ensure its' protection. The Company affected all aspects of the government—the judicial, legislative and even executive branches. But it did not stop there. Its influence covered the CIA, FBI and the military. The laws of the country were no longer in the hands of the people, but rather in the hands of a company, whose interests rested in their own gain.

Flipping through a few more pages, he discovered a page with girly handwriting. A date was put in the corner, and below, the writing began.

_April 15, 2---_

_Today I watched on television as the man accused of murdering the vice-president's brother was told that his last appeal was denied. It was a sad day. It is sad when someone is told that they will lose their life. No matter if they are given only a second's notice, or 1 year—it is still sad. And then I saw the weirdest thing—I saw his eyes. I will never forget those eyes. They looked just like Mikey's. So strong. Those eyes held all the truth of his soul. And I knew he was innocent. I looked back into the files—trying to find anything. Paul, being himself, left few notes—but me, being myself, read between the lines and got in touch with some people—for example the tech guys who doctored up the video. And so I checked out Paul's file. It was after hours and I lied to say that I had some research to do on the de Niera case. I'm in SERIOUS trouble if anyone finds this journal! But I had to know. And guess what? College sweetheart of the vice-president. Was first interested in business and hired by a company (which had no name) and then entered the FBI after working for the company for 2 years and managed to get a high ranking job in 3 years. Math doesn't work, does it? I just have to do something. I have to save an innocent man._

_But how? How will I save Lincoln Burrows?_

Lincoln looked up and saw Scott's reflection studying him in the mirror. Scott turned his attention back to the long stretch of road in front of him—the barren desert on all sides, stretching to endless lengths. Placing a hand on top of the papers, as if touching her words made her feel closer, Lincoln bowed his head. "She knew? She's known for a year and she came to help just now?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. It seems that way. I left stuff back at the apartment. Plenty of documents. She studied you out. She gave me her whole plan. She planned a way to get your son and girlfriend to you. Aly believes in justice… She will do anything to protect the innocent. That's what makes her such a great agent. She will do nothing without a good reason."

Lincoln opened his eyes, smiling his approval of the assessment of her. Scott again nodded, then pulled out his cell phone. "I've got to make a few calls. We'll never make it to her in time if a rogue agent has gotten her. I'll call a few of my connections and see if they have any information on her." Scott glanced to Lincoln. "We'll get her back."

"I have a feeling she's already in good hands."

----------------------------------

"Burrows? You're the guy they've been trying to flush out? And you're coming to rescue me?" Aly lead the way down a narrow hallway, keeping the gun in front of her as she scanned the scene.

"My son called. Said there was someone who needed help out. I used some of the guys you worked with over at the office. Told them I was with The Company and I had some questions for you. They were more than happy to give away the location of their rogue agent. Besides, you're a pretty good asset to have along later," he replied, following closely, the baseball hat low over his eyes.

"Yeah. Well, we're in some stupid warehouse in the middle of nowhere. How in the world do you expect us to do anything?"

"Turn left up ahead. It'll take us outside and to my car."

"At least you have a car. That's certainly a start…" She peeked around the corner. Just as he had said, the hallway led to a door that was propped open—sunlight was shining through. "This is way too easy. Where are the guards?"

They slipped down the hallway, and out the back door. That's when they saw the five bloody bodies covering the deserted concrete cul-de-sac. She felt blood begin to drain from her face, but she took in a few deep breaths. This was not going to affect her, Aly reminded herself as she tried to determine a way to reach the car. Just as she stepped down the first step, she felt something sharp on her right side, and something strong slip to her left side.

"Miss me, Angel, did ya?"


	17. Chapter 17

Okay, I know I promised that I would get better and update more often. But you'll never believe the workload I suddenly have. But have no fear. I will try and update in 2 weeks. Give me 2 weeks and we'll go from there! Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I REALLY appreciate it!

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Miss me, Angel, did ya?"

His hand gripped at her waist. She groaned, not wanting him to feel the little bit of fat that gathered at her hips—just like any other woman. "Oh yeah. Missed you so much I want to run away so that you can find me again."

There was a click of a gun. Aly turned slightly, but she felt the knife burying further into her side. She quickly turned back around, keeping her arms lifted. "Okay. Ow. Ow!" She turned slightly to get a good look at him. "You went blonde? At least people won't be surprised when they talk to you—your hair color gives a hint at your IQ!" The knife bit harder into her side. "Okay. Sorry."

Abruzzi stepped to the side of her, holding onto Robert's arm, with a gun cocked at his head. "We heard you have Westmoreland's money. Or at least you know where it is. You're going to go lead us."

"Are you kidding me? You came all the way from Los Angeles to get me to show you where a bunch of money is?"

"Yeah," T-Bag whispered. "We sure did, Angel."

Rolling her eyes, Aly tried to step forward, but again felt that same knife digging into her. "Okay. Okay. We are not here to get any money. We have more important things to do. Like figure out how to clear Linc's name and bring down the conspirators. I don't care about the money."

"Has my little angel gone sweet on someone else?" T-Bag murmured as he reached up with his free hand and brushed through her hair. Aly took the moment to grab hold of his wrist and flip her over her back, until he was lying on his back in front of her. She twisted his arm just enough to let him feel some serious pain.

"Let us go, Abruzzi. I swear. I'll make your life miserable if you don't."

"Dead girls don't talk," he replied as he tightened his grip around Burrows, and aimed the gun at her.

"But reporters do. And I know the best."

-----------------------------------

Scott was getting tired as he pulled up into a lazy town somewhere in the middle of Missouri. They had been driving for 40 hours straight and now it was time to get sleep—even if Scott was going to be able to sleep. His stomach was tied in knots with the thought of Aly being locked up and probably tortured until she talked. And she would die before that ever happened.

He loved her loyalty. But at the same time, he was bothered by it. She gave of herself so completely, and yet never asked for anything in returned, never required a single shred of evidence for her trust. He thought about this constantly, even as he pulled into a small motel on the side of the road. Sucre stirred from his rest, as did Lincoln.

"I'm going to go rent a room for the night. We all need some good sleep or else we'll be useless. We still have a couple of days of driving and we're gonna need to get some things together before we hit the capital."

Lincoln growled his approval. Scott parked the car and ran in. There was one young man at the front desk, laughing over a magazine. He went straight to that young man. "I need a room. Two big beds."

"Sure, man." He went over to the computer. "How's the third floor?"

"Uh—anything on the first floor would actually work out much better for me."

"Oh yeah. Uh…Okay. We have…uh…one room on the first floor. It's right next to the exit. Is that…uh…okay?"

"Done. Ring me up."

Scott pushed his credit card and identification across the counter. The guy took the credit card, brushing the long hair away from his eyes and ran it through the computer. "Alright. Number 145. Check out is at twelve tomorrow."

"Right, thanks." Scott signed away at the paper and took back his cards. He pocketed the key cards and went out to the car. Lincoln and Sucre were still where he left them—curled in their seats. There was really no need to spend money on a room, but then again he felt that the less Lincoln and Sucre were on the road, the better off they would be.

"Alright, boys. I got us a room." Scott maneuvered the car around to the back. He was glad that they were near an exit. Quick getaways were always better, especially as they got closer to Illinois. He reached back behind his seat and found his laptop bag. "Let's go."

Sucre stumbled out of the car, but Lincoln took his time—looking around carefully. Scott just went to the side door, and swiped the card that allowed them inside. All three went in and walked to the first room. Letting them in, Scott immediately went to the table in the corner. He pulled out his laptop and started setting up. His cell phone came out next. Sucre looked to the phone and looked back at Scott.

"I need to make a call. To my chica."

"Wait until morning. They might have a trace on her call. Wait until I check us out of here," Scott replied as he tapped away at his own computer. He lifted the cell phone to his ear. "Hello? Jason. It's Scott." He paused for a moment, returning to type on the computer. "Yeah. It has been awhile. How are things going at the Post? Really? That's great. Oh the program is amazing. I've got some good stories on hand."

Lincoln came around Scott's back and leaned down to take a good look at the screen. Sucre followed. A map of the U.S. was in front of them, with red dots in every state—literally piecing together the country. The mouse hovered over one that gave a name, phone number, and city.

"Madre mía…"

"So… Are we in business again? I know it's been a long time and we were never really on the same team, but… Of course. Okay. I'm going to need you to call a phone number. Here it is—are you ready?" Scott gave a number. "When a female answers, I need you to tell her that Trekkie needs a beam. She'll understand. What? Oh—it's a code that says you're a good guy. I need you to find out where she is. Get as much information as possible. She may give it as a code. Try to remember all of it. What? Just trust me. Okay. Yes. I call tomorrow," he shut the phone and placed it next to his laptop.

"Scott? What is that?" Lincoln pointed to the image on the screen.

"My contacts. I've got to find Aly. I trust your guys, I really do—but getting her out is just one thing. You, of all people, should be aware of that."

"I know. We just need to wait to hear word."

-------------------------

Aly rubbed her eyes. It had been a long time since she had slept. Far too long. She curled into the pillow next to her, and held on tight, sighing as she did so.

Then, everything came rushing back to her. The sound of the television became clearer as she sat up on the bed. It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, and immediately zeroed in on the television.

There was a fellow FBI agent. Agent Mahone. One of the best. Although she had never met him, stories had gone around plenty about him. He was talking about the Fox River inmates. Charles Westmoreland had been recaptured and returned to Fox River. Evidently, he escaped only to see the last few moments of his daughter's life. And he wasn't talking. Everyone else was still at large.

Aly sighed with relief. They still hadn't been caught. With all luck, Lincoln and Michael probably already took off for Mexico again.

"How are you feeling?"

Aly flipped around on her bed, startled to hear another voice. Robert Burrows sat in a chair in the corner, watching her intently. She nodded, while rubbing her neck. "Where are we?"

"In the basement of a bar. We'll call it a mafia safe house."

Rolling her eyes, she shifted across the bed until her legs dangled over the edge. "Great. Well, I guess we'll leave a little tip and be on our way, no?"

"Alexia."

His voice was calming, like her father's had always been. "Yes?"

"I don't think they mean for us to escape. I think they were very serious about getting whatever money you have."

"Yeah, well. I'm not telling them where it is. I've got plenty of other things to worry about. I have important information that I need to substantiate before Lincoln can return home a free man. I'm on a deadline."

"Aren't we all, Angel?"

Turning her head to the door, Theodore Bagwell seemed to fill up the opening, although scrawny and a bit smaller than her. Aly lifted her head to rub her nose just above her eye. "Oh what do you want? Could you just go away and leave me alone? I'm trying to do good in the world!"

"And I need a little goodness in MY world," he replied with a flick of his tongue across his lips.

Robert stood up, and stepped in front of Aly, even though T-Bag remained in the doorway. "Let us go. You'll get everything you want. But this is about saving an innocent man from a life of fear and running. Of all people, you would understand what it's like to constantly be trying to find a new identity or cover story."

T-Bag's eyes flashed something. Aly could see it. Fear? Anger? He turned away. "You'll have to talk to the boss about that one."

He began walking away, until her phone started beeping. Aly grabbed for her pocket, while T-Bag returned to the room. She lifted the phone, and checked the number. It was not one she was familiar with. "Hello?"

"Trekkie needs a beam?"

---------------------------

"They have a good day and a half start on us, Michael. How are we going to catch up to them?"

He glanced over at her. She was leaning against the door of the car, one of her legs curled in the passenger seat. The music in the car was low, and could barely be heard over the hum of the car engine. "We don't want to catch up. We have a different route—different assignment. We'll get to them when they need us."

He gave a little smile, and immediately her face softened. "I'm glad that you know what you're doing."

"I'm just following the lead of a great thinker."

"That girl, right?"

Michael turned slightly to Sara. "Aly? Yeah. She's smart. Always has a plan." Sara bit her lower lip, and let her eyes fall.

"What do you… How do you…?"

"Sara?"

Her eyes came up and met his. He reached out a hand to her face, and let it rest against her cheek, while he returned his attention to the road. Sara took her hand and placed it over his, then rested back against the seat, comforted by the knowledge that he was still here—with her.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

"Hey."

She moaned and rolled to her other side. Her eyes were heavy and she was not interested in opening her eyes. They were so heavy. She curled beneath the covers, and it was then that she realized she was in a bed—no longer in the car.

"Hey. Sara?"

One of her hands began rubbing at her eyes. It took a minute to adjust to the light. "Where…where are we?"

"We've only gotten to Utah. Not very close to where we need to be."

"At what point did I fall asleep? I don't even remember stopping for the night."

Michael was lying next to Sara, the blankets were wrapped around her. His fingers were tracing lines between the freckles against her otherwise flawless skin. How was it that she wanted to be so close to him? Only a couple of weeks ago, and she never wanted to see him again. He smiled at the thought that he had her alone…

In a hotel room.

She stretched as far as she could. "I wish we could stay here forever." She looked into his eyes. They were darker, as if he was trying to study something carefully. "What is it?" She propped herself up onto her hand.

He brought his gaze back to her. "I…We need to get going. We have to make it to DC pretty quickly. We'll trade off driving and resting. There's one more stop to make and we're running behind everyone else. We need to catch up."

"Okay," she said, but she didn't move. "Is that all?"

Michael sighed and looked away.

"You can tell me, Michael. Anything."

He shook his head and pulled himself from the bed. "Let's get going. We'll get some breakfast to go." Michael disappeared into the bathroom.

Sara pulled herself out of the bed, and looked at the clock on the table next to her bed. It was seven o'clock in the morning. She laid back and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes.

-----------------

"Yeah? You have it… Okay? Alright. Thank you. Good luck." Aly closed the cell phone and tossed it a few inches away on the bed.

"Now, what was that all about, Angel?"

She looked up to see T-Bag still in the doorway. Robert Burrows was standing next to him. She took in a deep breath and then launched herself to the door. Robert caught her in mid-flight and pulled her away. "Just leave us alone. Let us go. I don't have time to be stuck here listening to your sorry butt crying 'cause you couldn't find any thirteen year old girls who are interested." She huffed, her nostrils snarling. "I'm so damn sick of your whining. Just get over it."

Abruzzi appeared at the door right behind T-bag. "What the hell is all of the screaming for?"

Aly composed herself, but Robert still held her tight against him. "Please," she pleaded. "The money is not as important to me as saving someone. Just let me go." She glanced over her shoulder then quickly turned back to them. "Let us go. We're not going to turn you in or give your hideout to the feds. Please." She shrugged from Robert's grip that had loosened and stepped towards Abruzzi, her voice softening even more. "I just want to save the one man I love and let him have the happily-ever-after."

"Let them go, John," said the quiet feminine voice behind him. His wife came up and put a hand on his arm. "Please, John. Let her save him. God knows how many times I've tried to save you. We don't need the money."

It took a few moments of tension, for Abruzzi to slowly begin nodding. "Alright. I'll have my men take you where you need to go."

Aly ran up and hugged him. "Thank you, thank you." As she pulled away, T-Bag grabbed her and pulled her against his body. She tried to shove away.

"Don't I get something for letting you get away?" he growled low and deep.

"Give me a break," she said. Robert came to her aid and pulled her from T-Bag's arms. "We'll just get going." Aly went back to the bed and grabbed her cell phone and pocketed it. "We just need a ride to the train station. Oh yeah—and maybe some more appropriate threads?"

-----------------------------------------

She was driving. Had been for the last six hours. They had barely made it into Colorado. How they were going to make it to where they needed to go in time was beyond her. Of course, she didn't know where they needed to go, so by any estimation, they very well could be almost there and early.

Michael was slouching in the passenger's seat. He had already made so many calls and was now resting. His head was resting on the window; his breathing was deep. It was a comforting sound to hear him deep in sleep. He usually was the one that was watching over her and making sure that she was the one resting.

Sara took one hand off of the steering wheel and moved it over to rest it on his hand. She gently stroked them. They were soft, gently. But very strong. He could do so much with his hands. In his past, he drew lines to the perfect angles and perfect scale lengths. And now he was using those hands to try and break out and then save the world. They held all of the confidence that he carried.

His hand quickly flipped over and captured hers. Sara glanced up at him before turning her attention back to the road in front of her. "I…uh…"

"Thought I was asleep," his voice was right next to her ear. He said it in a way that made her whole body tingle. Sara shrugged away the feeling.

"Uh…yeah…"

Michael pulled away, smiling as he brought her hand enclosed in his own to his chest. "Are you scared?"

"No," she replied quickly. Almost too quickly. He gently caressed her hand.

"Chicago," he said. "We just have to get to Chicago."

--------------------------------------

"Any of this look familiar to you, kid?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "Yes. I interned at the Washington Post one semester. And stop calling me kid. I can't be much younger than you."

Lincoln made no acknowledgement. He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. "So, where are we going?"

Night had crept in once again. They had all traded off driving during the day. Lincoln seemed to enjoy driving the most; his mood always lightened when he was in the driver's seat. And there was nothing Scott hated more than a brooding jock.

"Take a right up at this light. We need to get to a hotel and set up shop."

Sucre moved to be able to put his head between the two seats. "I thought we were going to look for Aly."

Nodding, Scott turned in his seat. "We are. I need an internet connection. Then I will know where she is."

"How is that?" Lincoln took a small glance over to Scott. "How will you know where she is?"

"She's going after one person—the President."

--------------------------------------

Turning around in front of the mirror, Aly examined herself closely. The dress dipped down low on her back, leaving it bare and open. A black bow sat on her bottom, while the dress flared out at the bottom. The front of the black dress curved against her chest, leaving just the neck open. It fitted to her curves, the sleeves displaying her carmel-coated skin.

She was still decided how she felt when she noticed that Robert had come up behind her. His graying hair was parted and combed. She smiled and tilted her head. "You look good in a tux, Burrows."

He laughed. "My sons would both, I'm sure, look much better."

Aly ducked her head and turned to the small table at the side of the mirror. She felt the heat rising to her face.

"And I don't think it will help our situation when you capture the attention of most men and a few of the women in the room."

She was moving through the pile of makeup, to keep herself from looking at him. "Well…I…uh…"

He placed a hand over hers. "How do you really feel about my son?"

Aly looked up at him, her eyes softening and growing wet around the edges. "I feel too much." Robert nodded and wrapped her in his arms. She sniffled a little and then wrapped her arms around him. "I feel too much… I want too much from him."

He rubbed her back, up and down. "Sh…sh… It's okay. It's not always a fairy tale."

She nodded, pulling away. "I know. I'm sorry." She brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. "Let's get this over with," she said. "And then I can disappear forever."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

The limousine was furnished with all of the latest gadgets, but Aly paid no attention to them. Her hands were clasped together in her lap, and she was mumbling to herself. Her eyes were trained in front of her as she went through various greetings in different languages. Aly kept speaking and looked out the window at the city that passed by her. She knew it so well—knew that the driver was taking a long way to get to the banquet at the hotel, but she did not speak. As she thought, she felt a hand cover her own. She looked down then trailed up to look at Robert.

"Sorry," she muttered before laying her hands flat against her thighs. He smiled at her.

"Are you nervous?"

"No. Yes." She shook her head. "I just don't understand it all."

"Understand what, Hart?"

"How did you…I mean, how is it that you…" She rubbed her face then smiled. "Let me start over again. Why did you not tell me who you were? I've been trying to find you for awhile."

"Since you became a part of the FBI."

"How did you…?"

"Aly. Alexia. I have been following Michael and Lincoln and their lives since I stepped away. It was all that I could do, besides going after the Company. There hasn't been a single event that has occurred that I have not seen."

"Then why did you wait so long, Robert? Lincoln was this close to dying!"

"Can I explain a few things first?" He asked. She nodded in response, to which he sighed and dived in. "As I said, I have been watching my boys since I left them. I watched Michael go to Loyola with the money that Lincoln advanced from the bookie. I had people out there to watch Michael at Loyola, to ensure his safety. And that's when my associates discovered…"

"—me."

"Exactly. They were very impressed by your ability. But more so by your loyalty. I was able to pool together some old friends to have it so that you went on the track that we all believed you needed to be on to best aid us. Even if we brought down the Company before you were ready, it was clear that you were perfectly capable for such a task as joining the FBI."

"You rigged it? You rigged by test scores? I didn't deserve to really be a federal agent?"

"No…" Robert looked at Aly. "No. You scored well. We provided the recommendations required and put people in your path that would increase your ability."

As he spoke, Aly's mind reflected back on all of her favorite professors and TAs who had been so quick to come to her aid when she had begun to fail the course. She had always thought it was potential that she saw reflected in their eyes. But really, it was pushing in a direction.

"Alexia, we have been waiting for you. We need you. You are what is left—the final step to bring down the Company and restore the government to its true purpose. Are you prepared to do it, knowing what you now know?"

"Final step? Everything relies on me? I…I… But I'm not prepared for this."

"No. You were molded for this," Robert said as he laid a hand over hers. The car came to a slow stop in front of the huge hotel. The driver turned around.

"This is your stop."

------------------------------------------------

_DC—a small motel outside of town_

"All I need is internet access. We just have to find out where the President is, and we'll find Aly."

Lincoln was pacing the floor, while Scott tapped away at his laptop. Sucre just sat on the bed, whistling to himself. On his next pass by the table, Linc leaned over and stared at Scott. "Do you think she is working alone?"

Scott didn't even look up. "Aly doesn't work alone. And I'm pretty sure that she wasn't the master planner behind this."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Aly is not stupid. She works with a lot of people that are loyal to the President—loyal to the Company. And I'm pretty sure that she would want to be successful."

"But she came up with a plan to get us out of prison."

"That's prison, Linc. This is murder. Conspiracy." Scott looked up from his computer. "She would never get involved in that, without someone else leading the way. She solves mysteries—she doesn't make them."

"Well, where is she?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Scott gritted through his teeth, returning to tapping at his laptop.

Lincoln returned to pacing across the room. Sucre finally stood up and yawned. "Hombre. We all need to relax. We're going to find the chica and then I'm going to go get me my girl back and we can put everything behind us…"

"I know where she's at. And we've gotta go. NOW," Scott said quickly, shutting his laptop closed. He grabbed his keys from the dresser and headed for the door. "Let's go. I'll explain on the way."

-----------------------------------------------

_Chicago_

"Turn left. Then right up ahead."

"Michael? Where are we going?"

"My apartment. I need some things from there."

"You do realize that it's been searched. I remember reading something about in the paper."

"But what I need won't be easily found. Listen, if you just drop me off and then go somewhere and get us a flight to DC."

"Okay."

"Right here. Yeah…just stop here." She slowed to a stop. He leaned over close to her ear and whispered. "Don't be long. I'll be waiting right here for you." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and then ran inside the tall apartment building. He looked back to see her pull away from the building. Michael walked to the elevator, not even acknowledging the man at the front desk. It was a new guy—from one glance he was able to see that it was a young kid. Probably a local college kid trying to make some extra money.

Michael punched the button for the elevator.

In no time, he was to his floor. Using the extra key he left above the door frame, he got into his apartment. Just as Sara had told him, it was ransacked. He went to his bedroom. His clothes were strewn everywhere. He was able to gather together a suit set and quickly changed into his new outfit. He would have to find something more appropriate for Sara. He then went inside his closet and then pulled one of the wood floorboards up. Inside, he pulled out some papers and then replaced the floorboard.

He went to the telephone and lifted it up. There was still a dial tone. He wasn't sure if there was a bug on the line, but he didn't care enough to not use it. He dialed a number, and let the phone ring.

"Hello?"

"Linc? Where are you?"

"DC. We got here. We're on our way to get her."

"Impressive time."

"We drove almost 24 hours straight. What do you need, Michael?"

"I'm coming in. With Sara. Where are you going?"

"Jefferson Hotel. She's going after the President. We haven't been in contact with her. But we know she's there."

"Is anyone with her?"

"No idea."

Michael rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay. I'm on my way. I'll be there soon."

"We'll take care of things, Michael."

"I know you will."

He hung up and then went down to the lobby. Sara was out in front of the building, already. Michael went in and got into the driver's side. "Wow. You clean up well."

"We're going to a party," Michael said. "Did you get us tickets?"

"Even better. I got us a jet," she replied with a smile. "It takes off as soon as we get there."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Michael and Sara drove to the rental car depot and dropped off the car, only to be shuttled to their jet, waiting. They were sitting comfortably in their seats when Michael turned to her and brushed some of her auburn hair from her face. "How did you get this?"

"I called in a favor to my father. He actually agreed."

"Did you mention me?"

She looked away. "You think I could've gotten the plane if I had?"

Michael took in a deep breath, and leaned in closer to her. His hand pulled her face towards him as he rested his forehead against hers. "Thank you," he breathed out. "You don't know what that means…"

She nodded slowly against him. When she finally pulled away and looked up, her eyes were wet at the corners. "Come on. We've got to get on that jet."

--

Washington D.C.—21:00 hours

Alexia lifted her skirt and placed one gloved hand on the railing to maintain her balance. She couldn't help but watch in awe as couples glided up the stairs. Then, she felt a hand on the small of her back. She turned, only to find Robert Burrows standing a step below her.

"We don't have much time, Alex."

She nodded slowly and then turned. She continued up the stairs then smiled at the security officer. "It is wonderful to be here, no?" She let a thick accent roll over her words, so that the security guards could only detect that she was foreign, but not be able to note a country.

"It is a lovely night, ma'am. Do you have identification?"

"Of course!" She reached into her purse and pulled out a little card. "My identification to drive. You call it a…a driver's identification?"

"License," the security officer corrected her.

"Thank you," she muttered, taking her card back. She walked through the metal detectors without a problem. She did not have a gun or any weapon on her. She did not like feeling this vulnerable. Alex waited in the lobby for Robert to join her.

He slid right up to her, taking her elbow between his fingers to guide her through the mass of people. "This is a State dinner. The President will make an appearance in a few moments."

She nodded slowly, smiling at people as they walked past them.

"You need to find the President's files and look for this specific one." He flicked a piece of paper between his two fingers and then reached up and slipped it under the edge of her glove, while rubbing her arm. He leaned in close to her ear.

Aly smiled sweetly and tried to blush. She knew someone was watching. She turned her head to the side so that her lips were next to Robert's ear. "I will sneak out right before the appetizers."

"You know where to go?"

"Of course," she said as she slid away from him. They entered the large stateroom. Dignitaries, politicians, and various other celebrities or well-known people were lining the walls. Robert led Aly to a vacant table. She swept into her seat. Robert sat in the seat next to her, and grabbed onto her hand. He intertwined his fingers with hers.

Another couple sat at their table and introduced themselves as the ambassador from Spain and his wife. Aly immediately began speaking in Spanish to them, expressing her love for the cities of Spain, its culture and food. She tried to keep the conversation constantly moving so as not to bring any questions back to her. The ambassador seemed content to talk in his native tongue to someone who understood and was enthralled.

The conversation continued until a man entered to announce the arrival of the President. The Color Guard entered the room followed by the President. Everyone was standing at attention, watching the President. That's when Aly saw her opportunity to sneak out the side door.

--

Outside of the White House grounds

Scott got out of the car and glared at the building and its ground that lay before him. Linc got out as well and studied the White House.

"This? This is where she is?"

"Yeah," Scott sighed as he slowly got back into the car. "And we've got to get inside."

"Inside?" Linc got back into the car, but didn't shut the door. "How in the hell are we supposed to get on the grounds? Let alone inside?"

"Hey, hombre," Sucre tapped on Link's shoulder. Then he nodded to the street in front of them. A white van with a catering company's name painted on the side pulled to the shoulder. A guy jumped out, his white shirt neatly pressed and black pants just as neatly creased, ran to the fence and began talking to one of the guards patrolling the area.

"That's an excellent idea, Sucre," Scott said. "Hey, Linc. Come over here and drive. I'm going to go talk to the guys in the van." He jumped out of the car again and ran to the van.

Linc got out and walked around to the driver's side and turned the ignition. He waited at the sidewalk until Scott came back. Linc signaled to get into the lane, but Scott stopped him. "Follow the van."

"What?" Linc asked gruffly.

"Follow the van. We're going to work tonight—as waiters. I talked to these guys. They're willing to let us work for them as long as they get the wages."

"You want us to be waiters?"

"It will get us in. And we can find Aly then," Scott replied as he began going through his pockets and pulling out anything that might be considered interesting.

--

Aly climbed the back stairs. She knew her way through this building. She had been here plenty of times before on assignment with Kellerman. She gagged as she thought about Paul. It was sickening to think of him now. After everything she had learned about him—all those times of coming to the White House was not for anything but treason; for his own selfish gain.

"Stop!" A loud voice commanded. Aly stopped and gave a big smile as she turned around.

"Hi."

"Who are you?" A large man stopped in front of her and crossed his arms across his chest. "This is a secured area. Only those…"

Aly reached into her dress bodice and pulled out a piece of paper. She unfolded the official "badge" that she carried around when undercover. "Alexia Hart. I've been with the FBI for…"

"Ms. Hart. My apologies. I didn't recognize…"

She quickly folded the paper and stuffed it down her dress again. "Of course. I understand that a pretty dress and some make up can distract. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to retrieve something from the Oval Office for the President."

He nodded and gestured down the hallway where she had been originally going. "Of course. I will come with you."

She picked her dress in one hand so that she would not trip and followed him down the hallway until they reached the office. She nodded her thanks and slipped inside the room.

"I'll just stay out here."

"Thank you, uh…"

"Jared," he told her. Aly smiled as she mouthed the name to herself.

"It's on the computer so it may take some time. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," he said, answering her smile with one of his own.

Aly closed the door and immediately ran to the laptop on the desk and began playing with the keyboard. She tapped through a series of sequences and brought up the desktop. She lifted up her skirt and pulled a jump drive that was next to a gun strapped to her thigh. Plugging the drive into the computer, she began the process of finding the file and working through the encryptions to be able to download it.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

"This is too tight," Linc said as he pulled at the collar of his white shirt.

"It will be fine. We won't be working for very long," Scott said as he tied his bow-tie. His shirt was a bit too large for his body, but that was only because he was the smallest of the three of them. He tucked his shirt into his pants to try and hide the extra fabric.

"How do you tie this tie?" Sucre asked as he held the ends on either side of his neck. Scott sighed and came over and began tying.

"Now, listen. We're out there until we find Aly. The first one to see her directs her to the kitchen where we will discuss her plans, et cetera."

"Yeah, and then what are we going to do?" Linc asked.

Scott finished pulling the bow tight and then turned to Linc. "We get her out of here to keep her from doing something stupid. Now, come on." Scott grabbed his coat and walked out into the kitchen. Both Sucre and Linc followed.

They were immediately given some trays of food and directed to their various paths. The three split up in the main room and began circling the tables, trying to keep a low profile. Linc was offering food to a table but as he stepped away, someone grabbed his arm. His eyes grew wide but he turned and went straight into the kitchen. He knew the man was right on his tail.

Once they were behind the closed door, he turned. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Lincoln."

"Shut the hell up with the greetings. What are you doing here?"

Scott and Sucre came back through the doors to refill their platters. They saw the man with white hair and Linc standing face to face, grimacing.

"Hey, hey," Scott said as he pushed his way between the two of them. "Remember why we're here."

"You're looking for Alexia," Robert Burrows said flatly. Linc glared at him.

"Yes," Scott said. "You know where she is?"

Robert checked his watch. "She should be back in five minutes. If it's longer than that, she is in grave trouble."

"Who are you?" Sucre finally asked.

"This is my father," Linc said through clenched teeth.

Scott nodded. "Ah. Robert Burrows. I see." He scratched his chin. "You're in on this, aren't you?" He asked. Robert answered with a nod. Scott rolled his eyes. "God! All of you Burrows men always seem to be the reason for Aly getting in trouble."

"Aly's not getting into trouble," Linc shouted. The chefs turned to them, but Scott gave some apologies and promised to keep everything quiet.

"Look, we're not doing her any good. Robert, you need to get back out there before anyone realizes you're missed. And we need to make our rounds. Robert, please let us know if Aly hasn't come back by her appointed time."

Robert nodded. "I'll drop my napkin, then come here."

"Agreed. We're going to have to all work together," Scott said as he lifted a tray full of fruit onto his shoulder. "For Aly."

--

Aly was struggling through the encoding process. It was taking much longer than she had anticipated. Instead of the one minute, it had been three and a half at this point. Robert would begin to worry. She was worried.

The welcome screens finally appeared and she pulled the jump drive from its hiding place and attached it to the computer. She began the downloading process.

It was dark in the Oval Office. And though it was the most secure room in the entire building, she felt the least safe in this room. She drummed her fingers against the table. She knew that she couldn't look around. First of all, there wasn't much to look at, and secondly, there were cameras projected into the room. Her every move was watched. She had to be quick.

She ejected the disk. She calmly walked to the door and opened it. Jared was standing right outside the door. "Have everything, Agent Hart?"

"Of course," she smiled and fanned out some notecards. "President couldn't give her speech without some notes."

"You're right," he said.

She began walking into the hallway. Jared followed her. They had almost made it to the stairs for her to descend, but at the end of the hall, the elevator doors open.

"Agent Samson take Agent Hart into custody."

Before Aly could react, Jared grabbed at her wrists and brought them behind her back. She stiffened and tried to wrench free, but he had her arms locked in place.

When the man finally stepped forward into the light, Aly cringed. Kellerman was leering at her, which was difficult to do, considering one of his eyes was swollen to a nice purple color. When she finally noticed it, she couldn't suppress the smile. Kellerman brought the back of his hand across her cheek. The force of the blow sent her slamming into Jared.

Kellerman leaned in. "Well, what have you been doing here?"

Aly snapped her head up. "None of your damn business."

"I think it is," Kellerman said. He straightened and looked back at Jared. "Take her down to the basement. She and I need to have a little chat."

Aly felt the push against her body, she almost tripped on her dress. "Wait," Kellerman yelled. Aly let her breath out, but then she heard the scrapping of metal and felt two cuffs wrap around her wrist. Someone leaned in close to her ear and she tried to shrug away. "Wouldn't want you to get away again." He breathed out onto her neck. "You clean up nicely, Hart. But then again, you always did."

She turned and tried to gather some saliva in her mouth to spit, but he grabbed her cheeks in one hand. "Don't even try it, Hart," he said as he shoved her head away from him.

Jared shuffled her into the elevator. As the doors closed, she turned her head to the side and stepped back unto she could feel Jared behind her. "I'm not the bad guy, Jared. I promise."

"You're not getting away, Agent Hart. Kellerman gave orders. I follow those orders."

She struggled against him, but he had a good grasp on her arms. When the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, he pushed her out. She tripped over her long skirt. The momentum from his push and her stumbling sent her sliding across the floor. With her hands cuffed behind her back, she slammed into the wall. Jared walked over and picked her up by her arms. Aly tried to shake off the disorientation she felt, but the little time she had wasn't enough before she was shoved into a chair.

A couple of other agents grabbed at her legs and cuffed her ankles to the chair. She wasn't going anywhere, and she knew it.

--

Somewhere between Chicago and Ronald Reagan Airport (D.C.)

Sara tossed and turned for a bit before finally settling her head in the crook of Michael's neck. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

"Michael?"

"Hmmm?"

"What are we going to do once we get there?"

"Find Linc. Help Aly."

"And afterwards?"

Michael lifted his head and kissed Sara's head. "We're going to move back to Chicago. Get a pretty house. With a picket fence."

Sara shifted so that she could look up at him. "Seriously."

"I am," he chuckled. "Aly was working to get me exonerated. Aly doesn't do anything without already knowing how it will turn out. I trust her completely."

Sara looked away. "So, I should trust her?"

"You don't have to, but it will make life easier, I'm sure," he sighed when she didn't respond. "What is it?"

"I don't want a picket fence," she replied with a laugh.

He began laughing as well. "Go to sleep, Sara. We should be there soon," he said as he wrapped his arms around her tighter. She felt so safe in his arms and only hoped that they could stay that way for longer.

Sara sighed and shifted so that she was laying mostly on him, her head mostly on his chest. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

His breathing changed to something shallower and she could feel his heart beating a little more rapidly. She smiled and moved one of her hands to lay right above his heart. He leaned down and kissed her ear. "Do I give you this reaction, Michael?" She mumbled into his shirt.

His warm breath was on her ear. "Yes. You make me feel this way. Now, go to sleep."

Sara couldn't help but smile as she tried to find another comfortable position to rest.


	22. Chapter 22

Robert Burrows came through the swinging kitchen doors. He looked behind him, but his body didn't relax.

"It's been five minutes, boys," his face remaining stoic.

Scott sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Where do we begin looking?"

Robert sighed and bowed his head. He pointed to a side door in the kitchen. "She's probably been discovered. She has been blacklisted. I'm guessing she would be in a place where—"

He paused and everyone kept his eyes on him. Robert shrugged. "We may be too late. I don't know."

Linc grabbed his father's shoulder. "We'll get her. I won't let anything happen to her."

Scott held his hands together and then pointed both index fingers at Robert. "Go out there. Apologize and make an excuse for why Aly isn't there. Excuse yourself. Say she got sick and is waiting in the van. We'll go looking for her. But you probably don't need to stay."

Robert nodded. "I will get some back up together. We'll be here shortly."

Scott looked at Sucre and Linc. They nodded. "Agreed. We'll check as much as we can. Hopefully we can find her."

Robert clutched his son's hand, still on his shoulder. "Be careful. These are dangerous people. They will not hesitate if they feel. . ." his voice trailed off. Linc nodded.

Sucre and Scott had already pulled off their aprons. Sucre was giving their apologies to the other waiters explaining an emergency. Robert ducked out of the kitchen, while Linc began untying his own apron.

"What's the plan, Scott?"

Scott shrugged. "Through the door. That's as far as I've gotten. You have any ideas?"

Sucre looked puzzled. "I'll follow you, mi compadre. Lead the way."

Scott looked back at Linc. The response was a nod. Scott turned to the door. "Let's go."

---

Aly struggled against the cold metal against her ankles and wrists. She knew ways to get out of these cuffs, but none of them were really pleasant, and it didn't help that there were two large men and Jared standing watch over her. She looked down at her beautiful black dress. The sliding across the floor had ripped it, so that her legs were visible and pale in comparison to the ebony color of the dress. She groaned and tried to shift, embarrassed by the height of the cut on her leg. But the cuffs cut at her ankles and there was nothing to be done.

She was in a very open area. There was a staircase behind her and to her right. It twisted tightly and disappeared into the next floor after twelve steps. The walls were a stark white—everything was bare. The only furniture was the silver chair to which she was currently attached.

The elevator doors opened again, and Kellerman stepped out. He looked to the men surrounding her. He nodded.

"She'll need to be escorted here. Make sure she is safe."

They nodded and exited to the staircase behind her. When their feet pattered above her head and disappeared, Aly struggled to get lose again. She could feel Kellerman approaching her and it would do her no good to be trapped with him.

He swooped in front of her, grabbing her arms that were wrapped around her back. "Hello again, Aly. Miss me?"

She knew better than to try and spit. She shifted her body, struggling to get out of his grip.

"Uh uh," Kellerman growled. "You're not getting away this time, Alexia Hart. You have no one to find you."

He brought a hand up and caressed one of her cheeks. She grimaced. He noticed and smiled. He leaned in close to her ear, his hot breath on her skin. Aly tried to get away.

"Are you scared now, Hart? Do I frighten you?"

She turned her head towards his lips. "Never. I could never be afraid of a cowardly creature who has to hide behind a woman who will never return his love, as you do."

He reared back and brought his right fist to connect with her chin. Aly's head snapped to the side. She moaned, her tongue tasting blood.

"Oh, you don't like the truth, Kellerman? The truth is your and the President feel THREATENED by me. ME. An insignificant FBI agent that even you could not handle. You trained me, and I grew up to be so much better. How does that make you feel, Paul," she spit his name out. "How does it make you feel to know that the apprentice has outshined the master—if that's even what you are."

Kellerman pounced on her, sending the chair and her across the floor until it slammed into the wall and tipped over from the force. Aly was laying on her stomach and unable to turn back over.

He used his foot to prod at her. "We'll see how good you feel after an hour of this, Hart. Maybe your mouth will have learned that it's not always wise to keep talking!"

---

Scott slipped down a dark hallway. Sucre and Linc followed and the three of them made sure to remain in the shadows. They heard footsteps coming down the hallway and tried to remain as still as possible.

"What do you think he's doing to her?" One male voice asked.

"Whatever it is—she's probably not going to make it out alive," another voice answered with a chuckle.

"Shouldn't we help her? It just doesn't seem right that she dies," a third male voice added.

The footsteps stopped only a few feet from the shadows that Scott and the others were hiding in. He tried to keep quiet, clamping his hand over his mouth and nose to ensure that his breathing was quieter, more natural.

"It doesn't seem right for her to betray her country and her president. She took an oath, a pledge. She is just as bad as the rest of them."

"I'm just saying…"

"Come on. It's not our place to speculate," the first man said. The three men continued to walk down the hallway.

Linc began to walk out of the shadow, but Scott put his arm out. He waited until the men were climbing the stairs, before he nodded at Linc and Sucre. The three of them headed down the hallway, finding a staircase. They slowly crept down the thin, circular steps until they could see into the room.

Aly's legs were tied to a chair, but her arms were free. She lay on the floor on her stomach. Her face was turned away from them. She groaned and rolled her face towards them.

Scott felt sick. Her face was bloody and already starting to swell. Her eyes were closed, but from her face—she had given up. He started to rise and race down the stairs, but someone walked towards her. He lifted up her head by her hair and shook her.

Aly moaned.

He laughed.

"Yes, my dear," he said as he righted the chair and kneeled in front of her. He tied her wrists against the chair, just like her ankles. "That's better."

A ding and footsteps signified the arrival of others. The President came into their line of sight.

"Paul?"

"This is she. This is the agent that set Scofield and Burrows free."

The President put her hand on Paul's shoulder. He leaned and whispered something to her. The President nodded and smiled. "You may leave her to me, Paul. Please take the guards."

"But Caroline," Paul pleaded.

"Paul. The guards," she nodded. Paul and the other men retreated from the room.

"Scott?" Linc whispered.

"Wait," Scott said as he searched his pockets. He found the digital recorder he always carried for a story in his back pocket. He pulled it out and clicked the record button.

The President circled Aly once, her arms crossed across her chest. "So. You thought that you could take down the Company, did you?"

Aly groaned. Her lead lulled back so that she could get a good view of the President.

"Thought? I have all the evidence I need to bring down the Company. And it's all in the hands of a reporter. Official documents, recordings—everything."

The President slapped Aly's face.

"Damn you, girl. Paul was preparing you for great things. Don't you know that you could have ANYTHING you ever wanted?"

"I already have everything I need."

The President studied her. "But you don't have everything you want," she said as she circled Aly again. She leaned close to Aly's ear. "Or make that everyone you want."

"I don't know what you…"

The President put her foot on the chair seat in between Aly's legs and pushed her back. The chair slid and stopped at the wall.

"Yes, you do. You could've had Scofield. If you had just stuck with the plan, Burrows would've died, and we could've had Scofield on our side. He would've done anything to stay alive. Anything."

"Why would I want a man under false pretenses?"

"Because how would you get him any other way? Don't you see? He's in San Diego. With the Doctor."

Aly's head snapped up. The President grinned. "Oh yes. We knew where you were the whole time. He's the only one who didn't go looking for you. He stayed with her. You mean so little to him."

"It doesn't matter. I'm going to die anyway. He never cared for me in that way. I knew that all along."

"Did you? There wasn't a sliver of hope that maybe he would find you grown up? More exciting?"

Aly struggled against her ropes. "Never. I never thought he would be interested and I was right."

"Really? You never thought that?"

Aly didn't reply. She continued to struggle.

"What about when you were in the plane? When he recognized you? When you pretended to be married in Mexico?"

She stopped struggling, but continued to stare at the ground. "Of course. Those kisses. Having his arms around you…" The President sighed. "Yes. Yes. You did think about it. And if you give up now—if you destroy the information—we can make Doctor Sara Tancredi… disappear."

The President leaned over the chair. "I'll give you some time to think about it," she said and then turned and walked away.

The elevator left the room. Aly sighed. Her body relaxed in the chair.

Scott nodded and he, Linc, and Sucre descended into the room. Aly looked up as she heard their footsteps. She turned away from them.

Scott slid across the floor. "Aly? Aly, are you okay?"

Linc and Sucre went to work on the restraints. Scott put his hands on Aly's cheeks and brought her face to stare at his. "Are. You. Okay?"

Tears were streaming from her eyes. "You're not supposed to be here."

Once her hands were free, she put her arms around Scott. He stood up with her, but she quickly slumped against him. He tried to pick her up, but stumbled backwards. Linc grabbed her from Scott. She curled in his arms and sighed.

Aly brought her hand up to his cheek. "You're going to be killed, Linc."

"So?"

Aly put her arms around his neck and gave a hug. "Thank you. You didn't need to do it."

Linc pulled away from her to look down in her eyes. Scott gave a cough. He knew his face looked harsh and angry. "We better go. Before they—"

"Get back?"

The unknown voice came from nowhere. They all looked all around. And then, a door, blended into the white walls opened up. Kellerman and three guards opened the door, guns pointing at the group.


	23. Chapter 23

"We better go. Before they—"

"Get back?" Kellerman's voice echoed through the room.

Aly tried to lift her head from Linc's shoulder, but it took too much effort. She turned until she could see the guns cocked on them.

"Paul. Let them go. They only came to save me."

He stepped closer to her. "And that's exactly WHY you all have to die."

Aly struggled in Linc's arms. He lowered his mouth to her ear. "Are you sure? No need to hurt yourself."

She nodded her response. She slid down to the ground, but guided Linc's hands to maintain a hold on her waist. She turned to Kellerman slowly, surveying the surroundings.

"Kellerman. I'm warning you. Let. Them. Go." She said each word distinctively. But as she spoke, she moved her hands behind her back and began fiddling with Linc's belt buckle.

Linc shifted a bit, stopping Aly from continuing. It was just as uncomfortable for her, knowing that he had no clue what she was doing. She maintained her composure as she began pulling the belt through the loops of his pants, winding it around her hand.

"Hart. You underestimate my ability to not laugh at you. Your games are over. We have the guns." He stepped closer to her, his gun pointed straight at her face. "Now, shall we take a little walk?"

Just as Kellerman reached out to grab Aly, she unraveled the belt and slapped it across his arm. The buckle whacked against his wrist. He dropped the gun. Sucre dove for it, and Linc pushed Aly behind his body. Scott tried to put Kellerman in a headlock, but his scrawny body wasn't really a match. The guards trained their guns on Scott.

Aly tried to push past Linc, but she had no energy. "Scott. No," she choked out.

Sucre stepped next to Scott and held the gun to Kellerman's temple. "Put down your guns, hombres. Or your boss gets it."

The guards looked at one another, but none of them dropped from their positions.

A shot went off in the room. Aly turned to see Robert with a gun in his hand, raised to the ceiling.

"Do as they say."

Kellerman chuckled. "Go ahead. Try and kill me. You'll never make it out alive."

Aly stepped in front of Linc, and lowered to Kellerman's level. "Oh. We'll make it out alive. As long as you cooperate. If you cooperate, you'll be seeing Caroline very soon."

He spat into her face. She slapped him with a crack. She took the belt and grabbed his wrists and pulled the belt tight. "Don't try anything."

She stood up and began to walk towards the stairs. It took only two steps for her to trip. Linc reached an arm out and caught her. He swept her up in his arms and looked at Robert.

"We need to make an exit now."

Robert walked over to Linc, his gun still trained on the guards. He looked down at her. The color was gone from her face and it appeared that every breath took effort. She opened her eyes slowly.

Robert nodded to Linc. "Let's go."

He motioned for them to go to the stairs. "Sucre. Scott. Take care of him."

Scott took the lead and ran up the stairs. Sucre shoved Kellerman forward as they stumbled up the stairs. Robert waved Linc forward. Linc started after them.

Aly's head curled into Linc's shoulder as she sighed. "Tell him I was brave. Tell him that I did it for him."

"Tell who?" Linc whispered as he made it to the top of the stairs.

"Michael," she sighed. "Tell him that I never gave him up."

Linc stopped at the top stair. "You're not going to die, Aly. You're just hurt. This is not the end."

She shook her head. "There's nothing left for me. I've done my part."

Robert came up behind them. "We best get a move on."

----

Michael and Sara were in a taxi. Sara had pleaded with the driver to get them as quickly as they could to the White House—but traffic was not allowing them any quick trips.

Sara's legs bounced up and down. Michael placed a hand on one of her legs and smiled at her. She took his hand in hers.

He leaned closer to her ear. "We'll be there soon."

"How are you not as anxious as I am?"

He shrugged. "Because I know Aly. And I know my brother."

----

The group continued to try and make their way through the chaotic maze of the basement of the White House. Kellerman refused to give any directions and Aly was not very clear.

They were circling. They all knew it.

Linc set Aly down for a moment to rest. She slid to the floor. Robert kneeled next to Aly.

"We need to know the way out."

Aly raised her head. "I don't know if I…" She said as she ducked her head.

Robert put his hands on either side of Aly's face and lifted her face. Tears were streaming down her face. "I need you for one more thing. After this, it's all over. You don't have to do anything anymore. Now, Alexia. Tell me where we need to go to get out."

She nodded slowly. She pushed herself up off the floor. She studied the walls and the floor then walked uneasily to the corner and peered around the corner. Aly returned to Robert's side.

"This way. There's an old servant's exit this way."

Linc made a move to bring one of her arms over his shoulder, but she pushed away. "No. No." She stumbled to the front of the group. Scott tried to catch her. "I can do it." Aly breathed deeply. "I have to do this."

She began to walk down the hallway. The men looked from one to another and then decided that she was probably right. They took off after her.

------

Author's Note: My apologies for not writing faster. This story is almost complete and I'm really trying to finish it before Thanksgiving. So if you'll be patient with me for a little longer, I'll give you a great ending. Thanks for all of your loyalty over the past couple of years. I know I'm not the strongest writer by far, or the most unique, but I'm glad I've gotten the chance (and courage) to put this out there. Thanks!


End file.
